Leonard McCoy Knows
by ThatSassyCaptain
Summary: As a doctor, Leonard McCoy is required to know many things. As CMO of the starship Enterprise, he finds that he knows a lot more. One-shots revolving around things Bones knows/has learned about the greatest crew in Starfleet. Will update info as it applies.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I thought I'd work on something a bit more manageable since finals season is upon us. This'll be a sporadically updating series about crew character development from McCoy's perspective. **

**I hope you enjoy it!**

He knew Jim Kirk would never meet a stranger.

Leonard could barely see the spiky top of Jim's head for all the hoodie'd minions he had gathered around him. They were hanging on every word as Jim outlined his latest scheme, and not for the first time, Leonard was glad he was in a whole different division.

As much as Starfleet was an exploratory organization, it was also, to some extent, an institute of higher education. Leonard had already gone through all the razzle-dazzle of university orientation at Ole Miss, so he was really more of a bystander than a participant in this madness. All the cadets that hoped to find themselves in Starfleet Blues currently surrounded him. Unlike Jim's mob of Command hopefuls who were all huddled and nodding like a hive-mind, there was a schism in the ranks of Leonard's department.

"It should be Sciences _and _Medical! We can't represent one without the other!"

"It's all technically Sciences anyway! _You_ try coming up with a cheer that can incorporate both!"

Leonard sighed. _Children. I'm surrounded by children._ He glanced around at the other 30-somethings hanging out at the back of the section. For this year's Cadet Camp, Starfleet had decided on equal parts hep-and-pep and departmental bonding or some such thing. They'd all been lumped into groups by division. None of the other 'old-timers' seemed interested in the debate in the slightest. They were sitting, standing, or in one man's case _sleeping_ in their little corner of the stadium.

He glanced over to the Engineering/Operations section, which had apparently not succumbed to petty dispute over departmental lines. Though less organized than Jim's little cult, the cadets in red didn't seem to be doing half bad for themselves. They'd elected a council of four or five people to come up with a cheer for them, and then teach it to the rest of the group.

Frankly, Leonard didn't understand why this was even mandatory. They weren't some SEC hopeful school with a football team to back. He shuddered at the memory of his last-ever trip to an away game, where the Fightin' Texas Fan-base nearly ruptured his eardrums. He'd about had it with synchronized screaming.

"Well, we _had_ a cheer, but _somebody_ shot it down!" The argument picked up in volume down on the lower rows.

"That's because it was awful. We're not getting to eat first with a flat-lining cheer like that."

Leonard sighed and dropped onto the bench. He was done. From the looks of the Camp directors on the stadium floor, they'd be called upon to present their cheers any minute now. That guy down in front was right. They were definitely eating last.

_Worst part is, Jim'll rub it in my face later on. 'Why the long face, Bones? Didn't have any dinner, Bones?' If only I hadn't thrown up on 'im, then he'd'a left me alone…_

He was pulled from his melancholy thoughts by a shrill whistle. Showtime. The kids down in front were really panicking, forgetting their differences in a moment of blind panic.

"Alright, alright! We'll just go with his thing! Everybody get ready!"

So much for sitting. Leonard dragged himself back to his feet. The Camp Director, a retired Admiral with a particular passion for making today's youth suffer, held out a PADD like he was actually grading them, not watching videos on the net.

The frantic whisper died as his department was called on to present.

"Ready, everybody…?" A timid voice called from the front row. "Okay…"

The half-hearted cheer proceeded.

"S-C-I-E-N-C-E. Best squad in the galaxy. _Aaaaaaaay BLUE!"_

The thirty voices were met with polite applause from the rest of the stadium. Leonard rolled his eyes.

The tiny group of 'judges' turned their attention to the next, and largest, section. Despite their rough organization, Leonard figured they could give Jim a run for his money with sheer volume. True, the kid had some sorta irresistible charm that'd make these cadets bend over backwards to win his favor. He probably had them eating out of his hand, each mentally practicing their part of whatever elaborate production he'd outlined for them. Honestly, Leonard wouldn't be surprised by a musical number and pyrotechnics at this point.

A bigger guy down in the hot-seat cleared his throat.

"Warp core! Phaser 'rray! What does Operations say? _Daaaang, _we look good! _Daaaang _we look good!"

The little chant was accompanied by a sliding, sidestepping move that a couple of the kids were really getting down to. If anything, they had spirit. Leonard supposed 'flat-lining' was an appropriate description for his neck of the woods…

The Camp Director nodded approvingly and moved along the ring. _Oh, here we go. _Leonard prepared himself for the worst. No doubt, Jim, in true ringleader fashion, would direct his mob of followers in some high-precision, over-the-top-

Jim emerged from the excited swarm. He threw a grin over his shoulder at his crew, and then managed to find Leonard in the crowd. The cocky little punk winked.

The whole stadium fell silent, waiting. After an appraising glance at his audience, Jim smiled. He held up a hand. The cadets in yellow stood at attention. Jim's fingers ticked down.

Three.

Two.

One.

He threw his head back.

"Y-E-L-L! EVERYBODY YELL-"

"_OH!"_

The entire building shook with the section's response. _Why that clever son of a gun… _But, Jim continued.

"Y-E-L-L! EVERYBODY YELL-"

"_OH!"_

"Y-E-L-L! EVERYBODY YELL-" "_OH!" _"Y-E-L-L! EVERYBODY YELL-" "_OH!_

The Camp Director clapped. They didn't stop.

The whole section was in a frenzy. Jim was waving his arms like a conductor, goading them all into a faster, _louder_ chant.

Then, he was marching. Marching away from the judges, leading his whole section down and out of their seats. Out the side door, the one Leonard knew led to the cafeteria. He shook his head. _Jim could organize a line of convicts into a Sunday school production._

They were gone. The rest of the camp was left in stunned silence. Leonard was resigned to his fate, taking his seat again as the call of Command echoed in the distance.

_"Y-E-L-L! EVERYBODY YELL-"_

_"OH!"_

**A/N: Well, whaddya think? Drop me a line and tell me what you liked or better yet: Tell me who you'd like to see a one-shot on or what you'd like to see one about!**

**For anyone who's never been, this is exactly what Transfer Camp is like. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sulu time! I love John Cho! Enjoy!**

He knew Sulu could bring them down safely.

It had been all well and good until the natives had started firing on them. The land-to-air weaponry had sorry accuracy, but this time quantity prevailed over quality. The left engine was smoking and the craft was coming down, this much was certain. In the back, Scotty was up to his elbows in circuitry with the two technicians assigned to the mission at his side. They were all shouting and flinging tools from one end of the shuttle to the other.

Leslie the copilot had hit his head on the side wall before seatbelts had been deployed and was slumped over in his seat, unconscious. Leonard McCoy could see the Lieutenant's head lolling back and forth with each bout of turbulence. Every inch of the shuttle was shaking. Another jolt jerked the craft to the side.

McCoy had his arms crossed over his chest, knuckles white from his death-grip on the safety straps. He was trying to breathe deeply, but every buck of the shuttle left him gasping again. He trusted Sulu. He'd learned quickly to hug the wall when anyone other than the swashbuckling helmsman was at the wheel. Sulu was the best, there was no doubt in McCoy's mind. Whether or not that would prevent the local population from blowing them to bits was something else entirely.

He wished he could just stick his head between his knees and force himself to calm down, but the seatbelts kept him so rigidly upright, he couldn't even lean forward to ease his churning stomach.

_Aviophobia… It had to be aviophobia… _Scotty's excited shouting broke his train of thought.

"_Anywhere you can set us down lad?" _He called from the back. "_There's not much we can do with th' engines at this point!"_

Sulu turned in his chair, and McCoy got a good look at him for the first time since this disastrous flight started. The helmsman looked calm, _crazy calm_. He had a neutral expression on his face, as if he was having a conversation with the engineer over lunch at the mess hall.

"I'll find a spot! We're approaching a lowland plain about two miles wide. Should fly over in about five minutes. Do you think you can keep us airborne that long, Scotty?"

Five minutes. Five minutes, and they'd be safe.

"_I'll do my best, lad! Alright, you heard the man! Five minutes until we can land, so let's keep this tin can up for six! Move it!"_

McCoy shut his eyes and sucked in another breath. Five minutes. Could be five hours as far as he was concerned. The spin-cycle in his stomach wasn't even kinda slowing down.

"You alright, Doc?"

He cracked an eyelid. Sulu was half-looking over his shoulder, half-trying to navigate through the exploding air.

"'M fine, Sulu, but how-about you keep your eyes on the road?" He knew they were in the air, _he knew,_ but he would do just about anything to distract himself from the fact.

To his surprise, the pilot laughed. "I've flown through worse. Do you need anything?"

The genuine concern in Sulu's voice surprised him for a minute, but then the shuttle bounced again. Sulu's fingers flew over the console, flicking switches and making adjustments. McCoy swallowed hard, willing his stomach to keep it together.

"I'll be fine. Don't let me distract you. Just… just get us down safe, alright?"

"Will do, Doc. Hang on for a few more minutes."

With that, he went back to flying. Every ounce of training was evident here, in a crisis. McCoy tried to distract himself from the flight by studying Sulu's actions. The helmsman was periodically checking four- no, five- readouts on the dashboard screen, all the while adjusting altitude, engine power, and even glancing over at the unconscious Leslie. McCoy had to give the man credit where credit was due. Sulu had singlehandedly kept every single member of the _Enterprise's_ maiden-voyage crew from ending their careers in the veritable minefield just outside of Vulcan's orbit. He'd pulled their feet out of the fire time after time on missions, whether it was on land or in the hazards of space. He trusted Sulu's instincts. If the pilot deemed it necessary to barrel-roll the whole danged shuttle, well, he just hoped his stomach would come along for the ride…

The shuttle lurched again and Doctor McCoy heard a groan from the copilot's chair.

"Leslie? Lieutenant, look at me. Hey, are you alright? No, stay with me, Leslie!"

The confused copilot nearly slumped back into his seat, but the jarring motion of the craft actually aided in keeping him awake. McCoy was hoping the danger would get the lieutenant's adrenaline going. He knew his own heart was hammering.

"Doc, what? Oh geez! What's our status? Hikaru, what happened?"

Leslie seemed to come to his senses all at once. McCoy hoped this was a good sign. Maybe Leslie'd just gotten a tap, nothing too serious.

"We've taken a lot of hits." Sulu filled his copilot in while dodging the last of the land's barrage, "The left engine's basically out. Scott's trying to keep us airborne but…"

"Dropping like a lead balloon?"

McCoy couldn't hold the strangled noise inside his throat. Through the slit between his eyelids, he thought he saw Sulu give Leslie the evil-eye.

"Our goose isn't cooked yet. We're about two minutes out from a big stretch of flat land. It should be an easy landing, if not a smooth one."

"Alright, boss." Leslie sat up and shook his head clear, shooting an apologetic glance back at McCoy. "Tell me what I can do."

They went over the landing plan at a rapid-fire pace. McCoy was honestly glad he didn't understand the half of it, because from the looks of things, they were about to make more of a crash than a landing. Sulu called Scotty and his men back to their seats. Soon, the repair equipment was stowed and the passengers secured. McCoy opted for one last look out the side window before squeezing his eyes shut and mumbling a frantic prayer.

"Everybody strapped in?"

"Aye, Mister Sulu! Get us down from here!"

"Alright. Leslie, monitor the heat on that left engine. Let me know if it gets to 800."

"Yes sir. I'll let you know if-"

There was a deafening crack and the shuttle lurched to the right. McCoy felt the straps dig into his shoulders with the strength of the hit. The whine of the engines had grown into a howl, then a screech. McCoy felt his stomach twist.

They plunged.

Never, _ever,_ again would he forget the power of gravity. They weren't just falling, he knew from basic physics. They were _accelerating_ at the ground at an absurd speed. He wanted to dig his fingernails into the safety straps, but the hard polymer shielding gave him no satisfaction. Sulu was shouting something at Leslie. _Sulu._ He knew the helmsman had the situation well in hand. _He's flown in worse. He's landed worse. He's flown in-_ The shuttle bucked again and McCoy strained against the straps, finding himself unable to curl into a ball. His legs twisted around each other, giving the knot in his stomach a run for its money.

"_Hang on everybody!"_

The first bounce was the worst. After that, they managed to slide the rest of the way. From what McCoy could figure, the terrain fought the pilot every inch. But, McCoy knew Sulu was the master at the controls. This hunk of metal would yield to his iron will. And, sure enough, they were slowing. He did it. _He did it! Sulu did it!._ The shuttle didn't tip. It didn't roll. It was a bumpy, jarring ride across the miserable field, but they made it. Hopefully, all in one piece.

With one last pitch, the shuttle came to a standstill.

McCoy gulped air. _It's over. Deep breaths. Get up. Check the others. _His fingers fumbled for the release lever. Once he had detached the straps, Doctor McCoy opened his eyes. They were lying at an angle, half of the shuttle tilted in the air. He scanned the seats, counting Scotty and his two men as a-OK. They all gave him nods and even a half-hearted thumbs up from one before deactivating their own safety restraints. Doctor McCoy moved toward the front of the shuttle, quickly sliding around behind the copilot's chair.

Leslie was awake. _Lord, thank you for small miracles. _McCoy dropped to the side of the chair and released the safety straps. The Lieutenant was largely cooperative, he noticed, but that didn't count for much. McCoy managed to get Leslie out of the chair and into the main compartment.

"Scotty…"

"Aye, aye, Ah'm comin'." The engineer scooted over to McCoy's position.

"He's got a concussion and some nasty lacerations." The doctor diagnosed, running his tricorder over the copilot with one hand and prepping a hypo with the other. He uncapped the instrument with his teeth and jabbed his patient in the upper arm. "I've given him a general painkiller, but you're gonna need to take the dermal regenerator over his face and arms a couple of times. Now I know y'all have the highest first-response numbers outside of Medical itself, so I trust you'll get this right. If not, I'll have your hides, boys." He shot a glare at Scotty's men, making sure they knew their CMO was deadly serious.

"Aye, McCoy, we've got 'im." Scotty reassured. "If ye don't mind my asking, what'll ye be doin' in the meantime?"

"Checking on Sulu." McCoy leapt to his feet. The fact that he hadn't heard any movement in the cockpit set off alarm bells, but he'd been preoccupied with the injuries he knew already existed.

"Sulu?" The helmsman was hunched over in his seat, propped up entirely by the safety straps. Doctor McCoy took a look at the pilot's console. There was blood on the dash, as well as on Sulu's shirt and what he could see of the man's forehead. The doctor released the straps and slid Sulu out of the seat and to the floor.

_Breathing? Check. Pulse? Steady enough… It oughta be stronger…_ "Hey Hikaru? Come on, stay with me…" Sulu's eye twitched. McCoy called for the tricorder and it sailed right over. A few passing curses later, McCoy was getting readouts. _Likely concussion, no, really? Bruising, lacerations- again, obvious- but no internal injuries._

The helmsman groaned. McCoy flipped open his hip-pouch and took out a hypospray. "Don't worry, Sulu, just a little painkiller. I'll even go easy on you, so long as you don't tell Jim. I'd never hear the end of his whining." He was rewarded with a small chuckle. It turned quickly into another groan, but McCoy knew the helmsman could hear him. _That's good, _he reflected as he applied the hypo, _At least he's somewhat conscious. _

His patient's eyes fluttered open. "How's it goin', Doc?"

McCoy grimaced. "I've been better, and you certainly have. How'd you end up smackin' your face right into the console?"

"Couldn't exactly take my hands off the wheel, now could I?" The helmsman gulped.

The doctor scowled. "You could'a prevented this. Now, why in the world would go and do a fool thing like that?"

Sulu winced and tried to shift on the shuttle floor. Doctor McCoy snatched the life preserver from under the pilot's chair and pushed the wad of foam under the helmsman's head.

"If I'd let go any sooner, we'd have crashed head-on into a big rock."

McCoy clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking. He took a breath.

"Well. Thank you for getting us down safely."

"That's my job, Doc-"

"Don't give me any of that!" McCoy snarled. Sulu blinked. The doctor rubbed a hand over his face. "Sorry. No, I'm not. Risking a serious head injury isn't your job. And _I know_ about 'the line of duty' and all that nonsense." He sighed. "Thank you, Sulu. If it wasn't for you… Honestly, I don't know how I'd still be sane, hurtling through space in a giant tin can."

"Heh. You're welcome, Doc. It wasn't me much at all though…We just got lucky, I guess."

"No luck involved, Mister." McCoy cracked a half-smile. "I never had a doubt in my mind."

**A/N: Feel free to hit me up with ideas. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! Here's a chapter before I take the week off. This one was inspired by the lovely PSW, who has brilliant ideas quite often.**

He knew that Scotty could fix anything.

_"AUGH!"_

"Sorry…"

He knew that Scotty could fix anything _mechanical_.

"It's fine. It's _fine_, Scotty! Just… try and be more careful this time…"

"Aye, Doctor. Ah'll do what Ah can…"

They had known that the terrain had been unstable when they'd beamed down. What they hadn't known was just how unstable. Not until the _Enterprise's _Chief Engineer slipped on some loose gravel. Things had, literally, gone downhill from there.

When McCoy had regained consciousness, he'd found Scott hovering over him and shaking his shoulder. Apparently, they'd ended up at the bottom of a hill neither of them recognized. Also, neither had seen any of the rest of the landing party. McCoy didn't know whether that was good news or bad.

As soon as he'd tried to get up and search the area, McCoy had fallen right back down, struggling to stay conscious. He'd soon discovered the problem. As bad as his luck had been with the concussion, his legs had collectively fared worse. His left ankle throbbed, likely twisted in the initial landslide, and his right knee was swollen beyond comfortable mobility. Scotty hadn't gotten off completely, either. His hands were nearly torn to shreds. McCoy had ripped off one of his sleeves and created some makeshift bandages. Duly swaddled, Scotty had done a quick search of the area.

They'd found no sign of either phasers or tricorders, and Scotty's communicator had been smashed to unrecognizable bits. McCoy hadn't even thought to bring his. Their predicament now involved getting back to familiar territory. Experimentation told them that McCoy couldn't walk. Scotty assured the doctor that he could carry him.

"Easy, Scotty, _easy!"_ McCoy gritted his teeth as the engineer hoisted him again. He pulled himself up as far as he could on Scotty's back to take some pressure off of his knee. They'd quickly discovered that a fireman's carry was not an option, so McCoy had suggested piggyback. It was better than nothing.

"Ah'm tryin', Leonard! This isn't as easy as it looks!" Scotty shifted his grip again, sending another jolt up McCoy's leg. The doctor bit back a curse. He knew Scott was doing his best. It was only so easy to carry a person when your hands looked like they'd got caught in an old-fashioned paper shredder.

To make matters worse, McCoy felt a drop on the back of his neck. Another. Another.

"Scotty…"

"What is- Oh. Oh no. Hang on, Leonard!"

McCoy tightened his grip as Scotty ran for all he was worth. They were both fairly soaked by the time they reached the edge of the woods. Scotty searched the area for any kind of shelter. After a moment, he spotted a space between two close growing trees. He jogged over and shoved McCoy into the hollow before scooting in himself.

The rain was really coming down now. A steady stream dropped and bounced off their boots. McCoy pulled his left leg up closer. He didn't want the wet fabric irritating his ankle any more than it already was.

"You alright, Leonard?" Scotty shifted so he could, to some extent, survey the doctor.

"I'm fine, Scotty, really. How're those hands doin'?"

Scott chuckled. "A bit better, thought they still sting like the Dickens."

"What do you reckon we should do? Wait around for a search party?"

The engineer stared off into the rain, deep in thought. After a moment, he spoke. "Ah suppose we should head out if the rain lightens up. It should be about as good as waiting here, if not better. If we can find our way back to the observation site, then we can have the study team contact the ship. After all, it's only a matter of-"

A clap of thunder sounded directly overhead, shaking the entire forest. Both men reacted with a jolt, the doctor pulling Scott's head down, and the engineer throwing an arm in front of McCoy. After the trees stopped quaking, they sat back up.

"That just about scared the livin' daylights outta me. You alright, Scotty?"

"Aye, aye… Leonard, you don't suppose that lightning…"

"Naw, surely not… The chances would be…"

"Astronomical, Ah agree. So you don't smell…"

"Smoke? No of course n- Well… It might just be my imagination, but now that you mention it…"

Scotty was dragging him away from the tree as fast as his feet would carry them. McCoy grabbed at his friend's sleeve, trying to hold himself up. He twisted back to look at their abandoned shelter.

Sure enough, the tree was on fire.

After a few more frantic steps, Scotty brought them to a stop. McCoy fell backwards into the mud, resigned to the wet and the cold. Scotty followed suit, sitting more so than falling.

"Great. Fantastic. I'm thrilled." McCoy closed his eyes. "Wake me up when we're dead, or whenever Spock finds our bodies. I wanna haunt Jim for not coming down and rescuing us."

"Hang on a second, Doc, Ah don't think we're ready to give up just yet!"

McCoy looked up to find that Scotty was no longer at his side, but instead, seemed to be poking around a large pile of moss.

"Scotty, what's a stack of lichen gonna do to get us rescued?" McCoy asked, just before the engineer ripped back a whole section of the plant blanket to reveal a big metal plate.

"It's not just a hunk o' moss, Leonard!" Scotty exclaimed excitedly, "It's our ticket out o' here! We've just stumbled across a transponder node, and by mah best guess, it'll put out a lovely little distress signal!"

"Scotty! That's amazing! What are you gonna do?" McCoy sat up to get a better look at the rusted marvel.

"Well… That's the tricky part. Ah can't do a blasted thing with mah hands bundled up like this. You're gonna have to do it."

"What? Are you out of your mind? I'm a doctor, not a mechanic."

"Ah know, Ah know. Ah'll walk ye through the whole thing. Now, come 'ere."

McCoy put up marginal resistance as Scotty dragged him over to the node. The engineer tried to pry off the protective paneling, only to find it was nigh on impossible in his condition.

"Aw, let me!" McCoy scooted closer to the node and set his fingers in the proper slot. The metal plate was fixed pretty securely, but after the application of some elbow grease and a little cooperation from Scotty's kicking foot, they got it open.

"Alright, we're in." Scotty declared. "Ye just have t' take the green wire there and cross it over around to the main terminal. That's it, just rip it right out. OK. Now, pull those two pieces apart. It's alright, I've got my stump hand on the connector switch."

McCoy followed Scotty's instructions to the letter. Every wire was spliced to the best of his ability. Every connection secured as tightly as he could make them. He'd never thought he be so relieved to hear the Chief Engineer comment, "Aye. That's just about it." McCoy sighed, bringing his forehead to rest on the side of the node.

"Now what?"

"Now, we wait."

Waiting turned out to be more trouble than they'd expected. Their little drizzle turned back into a deluge, so Scotty had to run around and find another suitable shelter while McCoy shivered in the mud. Once a dry enough spot had been found, there was the matter of getting the immobilized doctor there. Scotty crouched down as far as he could, allowing McCoy to get a firm grip around his neck. The Scotsman heaved, and soon the two of them were slowly approaching shelter.

"Thanks for all that, Scotty." McCoy commented over his friend's shoulder.

"Thanks for what? For slippin' on that blasted stone in the first place? For scrapin' up mah hands so bad, Ah couldn't even rewire a simple connection?"

"No. Thanks for carrying me out of the rain, dragging me out from under a burning tree, and doin' what you do best. I'm pretty sure I'd be dead by now if you hadn't gotten me up from that landslide, or told me how to send out that signal. Who knows? I might not have woken up on my own. There could've been a wild animal searchin' around and-"

"Ah think we've had about enough of that." Scott cut him off, voice tight.

"Alright." McCoy knew when he'd said his piece. Scotty'd probably been beating himself up about the fall all day. Heck, he probably blamed himself for McCoy's injuries and their sorry state of affairs. _It wasn't his fault. Anybody could've slipped on that trail. I almost bit it myself a couple of times. And nobody's seriously hurt. I mean, my legs are killing me, but that's nothing we can't get patched up on the ship._ McCoy decided his efforts at conversation would be best focused on a lighter topic. "How far is this supposed 'shelter' you found? Not a fallen log, I hope."

"Only a bit farther." Scotty replied quietly.

"Good. Because I'm cold and wet and just want a nap."

"You and me both, Leonard."

In the end, they never made it to the shelter. As they came across a small clearing, the air had filled with that familiar high-pitched whine. Lights danced around the woods, and suddenly they were on the transporter pad.

"Bones! Scotty! What happened to you two? You look awful!"

"Oh yeah, and you're such a spring chicken yourself. Hadn't had the chance for coffee yet, Jim?"

As much of a relief as it was to be back on the ship, the transporter room was occupied by only the Captain, Spock, and an ensign operating the controls.

"Ahem… Uh, Captain? Could we get a medical team down here? Doctor McCoy has sustained quite a few injures that Ah take full-"

"Aw, can it, Scotty! Jim, give 'im a hand. He's been carrying me for the better part of the day and his hands are bleedin' for goodness sakes. Scotty needs a full scan back in Sickbay. Put me down, would ya? They can get a stretcher here in two shakes, 'specially if the Captain sounds mighty pissed about it."

Scotty set him down on the edge of the pad. Jim and Spock advanced, the Captain crouching down next to McCoy.

"What happened down there, Bones? One minute, everything's clear, and the next the landing party's reporting two lost in an avalanche? How did you get that signal to practically hail the ship on it's own?"

McCoy looked at his Captain. "Scotty did it, Jim. The man's a miracle worker." The doctor caught Scotty's eye as the engineer surrendered to Spock's preliminary examination.

"He can fix anything."

**A/N: Yay Scotty! Feel free to shoot me an idea!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I've been awake for 19 hours and I wasn't going to post this yet but what the heck?**

**The original idea was submitted by HeartofFyrwinde, but I admit that this one ran away with me.**

He knew Jim could be an infant.

"Just ask her."

"_What- _Bones!" Jim sputtered. He'd moseyed on into Sickbay and head made himself a general nuisance for the past half hour. McCoy knew the quickest way to get Jim to leave wasn't by shouting or throwing things. He'd tried that. No, he'd make Jim so uncomfortable, or so annoyed with him that he'd storm out in a self-righteous huff.

"Ask her out. That's what you came down here for, right? Relationship advice. Here, come have a seat in my office." The fact that he managed to straight-face that line would never cease to amaze him. Normally, McCoy couldn't get far with pranks when it came to Jim, so he was way out of practice. Luckily, Jim's general fluster helped sell it.

"I'm not going to have a seat in your office. I don't even know what you're talking about. Asking who out? Bones I…"

McCoy's pointed look shut him up.

"I don't want to talk about it."

The CMO snorted. "Not out here you don't." He pitched his voice so just about the entire Sickbay could hear. "Right this way, Captain. You can tell me all about it in the strictest confidence." He grabbed Jim by the shoulders and steered him forcibly into the office.

"Bones! Cut it out! There's nothing to tell."

McCoy sat down in his chair and rested his hands on the desk. If he could just pull off his 'serious doctor' act for long enough…

"Go ahead, Jim. I'm your doctor. What's troubling you about this young lady? Won't talk to you in the mess hall? Giving you the cold shoulder?"

Jim glowered. McCoy stared back, face devoid of any expression that didn't reflect sincere, doctorly concern.

"Geez, Bones, what's with the psychiatrist act? It's not like that! She's just…"

_Oh ho, a confession! _"She's just what, Jim?"

The Captain groaned. His head thumped the back of his chair as he slumped so far down in his seat, McCoy was beginning to wonder if he'd end up on the floor.

"She's part of my crew, Bones."

_Oh. _McCoy sighed. He remembered Jim's first official crush as Captain of the _Enterprise. _The kid had grown up a lot in the past couple of years, but he was still young, far too young some said, to be the captain of a starship. Because of his general inexperience, he'd screwed up. Bad.

McCoy remembered Christine Chapel fondly. She'd been the best nurse he'd ever worked with. No-nonsense. Diligent. Organized. Head-over-heels in love with Spock. Jim had been jealous at first, but when he realized the hobgoblin had eyes only for their Communications Officer, he decided that this was the perfect opportunity to make his move.

Chapel wouldn't have any of it. She was older than Jim, had seen his routine many times, and was tragically uninterested. Tragically, because Jim's little crush led her to a transfer. McCoy was sad to see her go. True, the new post would be good for her, but he'd have like her to stay on the _Enterprise. _

Jim was heartbroken, for more than one reason. McCoy supposed it'd been his first real experience on the fine line between appropriate crew relations and actions that put the ship in danger. Jim had realized that there was a whole 'nother level to his responsibility to his crew. He had to protect them from anything, everything, even himself.

"Well… I uh… I'm sorry, Jim." McCoy tried. This was one issue he couldn't 'fake doctor' away. "Is there any chance you could-"

"No, Bones. No. I made that mistake once, and I'm not about to repeat it."

McCoy shifted in his chair. "Would you like a drink?"

Jim smiled. He scooted his chair back out and stood. "No thanks, Bones. I actually have work I should be doing. I'm sorry for disturbing you and your people."

McCoy stood up too. "No, Jim, you're not bothering anybody. As the Captain, you have the right to go where you want and inspect what you please. Just because I get annoyed when you come 'round here, prancin' through operatin' rooms for 'just a peek, Bones, I swear'-"

"Alright! Alright! Cool it, Bones. I'm going." He held his hands up in surrender and made for the exit. The doors slid open, but Jim stopped.

"Thanks for the talk. I needed it."

The Captain's shoulders slumped. This isn't how McCoy had planned for it to go at _all._

"Wait! Jim…" Kirk turned, wondering what his CMO could possibly say now.

"Is this hypothetical gal technically part of the crew if… let's just say perhaps there was a mistake in the paperwork that has yet to be examined… Would she still be part of the crew then?"

For the first time in their conversation, Jim's face split into a broad grin.

"You know, Bones," He began with a chuckle, "I don't think she is."

McCoy nodded once and watched the Jim's back retreat through the Sickbay. There was a spring in his step that rivaled Chekov's perpetual bounce. The CMO hadn't seen him this pepped-up since they released him from Starfleet Medical Headquarters all those weeks ago. McCoy smiled as Jim finally, _finally, _exited his Sickbay.

He knew there wasn't a more qualified Captain in Starfleet.

**A/N: It's short. I hope you enjoyed the little squirt, it's been haunting me all weekend.**

**But seriously. It's 5 AM and I'm not updating until at least Friday. So sorry. I'm toast.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Finished my big final project with time to spare! Here's a chapter.**

He knew that Spock would do the logical thing.

He knew Spock would grab Uhura and go back to the ship. _The hobgoblin's outmatched. There's no way he's coming back._

McCoy figured this was a good thing, in the end. When the landing party had beamed down to the unoccupied Alegri III, they hadn't expected to find anything but minerals and a mining probe. They hadn't expected this. McCoy tried to forget the screams, the look in Uhura's eyes as her grip finally broke and she was pulled away from him. Or worse, Spock's cold fury during the search, when they were the only two left. The First Officer's last order to 'broaden our search' before the lights went out and something slimy was crushing him, dragging him backwards and away from Spock.

And now, he was here. It was a pit. That was all he could tell. McCoy had fought against the creature, but it was too strong and frankly too fast for him. Moments later, he'd found himself being dropped into a gigantic glass bowl. After his head quit spinning, he'd tried to stand. The floor was slick. It had taken him several tries to gain his footing and keep it. Now, on his feet, McCoy wasn't even sure why he'd bothered. A cursory glance at his surroundings told him that there wasn't a way out. He was stuck in the middle of a hospital-room-sized fishbowl. The only light shone in a single beam directly above him. The rest of the room was completely dark.

Pacing wasn't really an option. McCoy considered just sitting down, but his heart was hammering. Some unknown cue kept his muscles tensed, his eyes searching the shadows, his fingers twitching. A few beads of sweat broke out on his forehead but he ignored them.

_It's just hot in here. That's it. Take a couple of deep breaths. _Momentarily forgetting his surroundings, McCoy closed his eyes. He breathed deeply through his nose, held the air for a bit, and breathed out. He repeated the exercise until his heart rate had slowed a fraction. _Better than nothing. Now, if only I could get a look at the rest of the room…_ He took a step toward the glass wall.

His ears were ringing. _That's bad_. Another sound reached his ears. A low, reverberating laugh ghosted around the periphery of his awareness. It built, gaining volume and intensity. McCoy couldn't suppress a shiver. First things first, he got his hands under him, _How did I end up on the ground?_ and pushed himself upright. He looked down at the glass, watching the floor swirl for a bit before it was interrupted.

_Pip._

He saw the drop of red and tried to remember what it meant.

_Pip. Pip._

More laughter. McCoy swung his head around, trying to locate the source. Something moved. A shadow changed position outside the prison. He shifted his weight back onto his knees. Getting up was harder this time. He stood, swaying. The shadow mocked him, laughing again. McCoy squinted, unable to discern shapes very far outside the walls of his prison. His heart rate was picking up again. He could feel the steady throb echoing in his forehead. Something slithered outside his field of vision. A shape materialized, snaking its way up the bowl to the rim. McCoy recoiled in horror. He backpedaled, slipping, but kept going until his back hit the far side of the bowl. He was shaking, unable to steady his hands, unable to tear his eyes away from the slimy threat that was determined to reach in and-

_Get ahold of yourself! Pull it together! You're a Starfleet officer and a doctor, not a damsel in distress. _He tried pushing off the wall, but his hands slid. It clicked. _There's something on the walls. It's on the floor. _He reached a hand up to his head. His fingers came away red. _Now, it's in your bloodstream. That's what's doing this to you. Fight it! Stay calm! Break this thing and find a way out!_

The tentacle found itself content to rest on the side of the bowl, not venturing in. _Darn right it is, knowing what's in here and what it'll do. What… what will it do? Are there other side effects? Quick, do an analysis! Heart rate: elevated, pulse too quick, room spinning, hard to breathe…!_

He shook himself violently from the train of thought. Deep breaths. That was the only thing that mattered. He pushed his shaking hands between his knees and breathed. In. Out. In. For a long time, he sat there trying to clear his head. He failed, but he kept the rhythmic breaths going strong.

Going strong until something pounded against the glass. The whole bowl shook, and McCoy closed the scream inside his throat while his eyes tried to find the danger. He found a pair of hands pressed against the outer wall. Beyond that, a blue blur and something else… A sound?"

"Doctor McCoy. Doctor McCoy, are you injured? Doctor, respond."

_Spock?_ If Spock was there… What did that mean? Where were the others? Were they safe?

"Doctor McCoy!"

The call tore him from his foggy panic and he looked up, finding Spock's face for the first time.

"S… Spock? What're you doing?" It came out slurred, even to his ears. There was a reason for that, he knew. Something to do with… the air? The air was very thick, but that wasn't it. He checked that off his small list of possibilities. Other things floated around his mind, just out of reach. _Where am I? Should my face be wet? Do I have feet?_ A quick glance told him, yes, feet are there. Spock was saying something, but the ringing was louder so he listened to that. The glass shook again and there was a new sound. McCoy looked up. A tiny, spider web crack had appeared in front of Spock.

It was wrong. It was very, _very_ wrong.

"No!" McCoy screamed, "_Spock!"_ He scrambled to his feet. He slipped. He got up again, still screaming. "Stop! Please, Spock you can't! Stop it! _Stop it!"_

He arrived at the spot in the wall where the cracks had now multiplied. But, Spock was nowhere to be found. McCoy's breath hitched. He swallowed, trying to regain control. Nothing could be seen in the shadows. Three scans of the room, all fruitless. Then, something moved. Something moved at him with alarming speed. A body in blue came flying into the wall. The glass cracked further, but held. The figure shifted on the ground. McCoy saw something else in the darkness.

A single tentacle approached.

He was the one pounding the glass now. Pressing his face against the wall, pleading. "Spock! Spock, please, get up! It's coming! It's getting closer, Spock, you've gotta do something! Wake up, Spock, wake up! Spock…"

The oily appendage snaked from the darkness and slithered up to the rim of the bowl. McCoy found he couldn't move his feet. Spock was stirring. _It's now or never._ He knelt down next to the First Officer. One hand spread against the wall, the other hammering the glass.

"It's coming! Get up, _please! Spock!"_ The dark head shook.

The tentacle stopped. It rose into the air. Spock cleared his mind and leapt to the side just in time. _Crack. _The wall shattered. McCoy was flung backwards. He bounced a few times before skidding to a stop. For a while, it was just ringing and grey light. His heart would flutter, but his head would spin too much to try and make sense of it.

Some glass crunched. The little voice in his head said that was important. Something brushed up against his arm.

"Doctor McCoy?"

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog. There was a little chirp, and he recognized Spock's voice.

"Spock to _Enterprise._ I have located Doctor McCoy. Prepare to transport once we are outside the cave system. Have a medical team stand by. Spock out."

Spock shook his shoulder gently. "Doctor, it is imperative that you cooperate. We must exit this cave in order for the transporter room to lock onto our position."

McCoy's eyes cracked open. _Green. That's nice. Oh, wait, green is bad. Very bad. It shouldn't be there. Spock's in danger! Something's out there!_

His breath hitched. "S-spock… Watch out… You have to- to…"

The First Officer pulled McCoy upright by the shoulders. Everything was on fire, but that wasn't important. _Spock's in trouble. Gotta help… You're a doctor._

"Spock. You're bleedin'."

"That is not important, Doctor."

McCoy was off the ground before he knew what was happening. They were out and in the fresh air soon after. He woke up on the _Enterprise_, in Sickbay. His arms were covered in bandages and he didn't know how he got there. Eventually, someone explained to him that _Spock_ had carried him out of the cave and correctly identified the toxin that had invaded his bloodstream. Spock.

McCoy supposed he was wrong. Sure, Spock would always do the logical thing, but he knew that deep down, Spock felt the same emotions the rest of them did. Somewhere, the emotional half had a say. It'd come into play when it really counted. When time was short and options limited, the First Officer would do anything in his power to pull them through.

He knew, at the end of the day, Spock would do the _right_ thing.

**A/N: Had to do it. I've had this little plot tumbling around in my head for weeks, but never the outlet until now. **

**SHOOT ME SOME REQUESTS! I love the ones y'all have coming in already! Plenty of material. **

**Also, Shout out to 'Summer of 69' for making me cry. Not really, but dang son. Some feels.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Short 'n sweet. I really like this one.**

He knew Lieutenant Uhura could talk her way out of anything.

They'd royally pissed off the native delegation. The Yenans were sticklers for protocol. They'd all been briefed on formal greetings and the cultural do's and do not's. Everything had gone smoothly until the end. As the delegation from the _Enterprise_ was leaving the main council tent, Spock tripped on a tent peg. McCoy would chew him out later for not saying anything when they'd discovered that the ceremonial wine was basically fermented chocolate, but right now he had bigger problems to deal with.

Spock had been snatched up pretty quick, and when McCoy went to explain everything they'd grabbed him too. Now, both men were sitting in before the Yenan High Council. McCoy squirmed on the wooden bench. He couldn't properly check Spock over with his wrists bound in front of him. The First Officer's hair was mussed and he had a glassy look in his eyes. So far, Vulcan controls had prevailed and Spock hadn't said anything harmful or illogical. In fact, he hadn't said anything at all. McCoy was concerned.

Uhura and the Captain were beyond pissed. They might've about matched the Yenans in righteous anger. While the High Council stood in a small circle, debating, Jim was pacing outside the tent. McCoy craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the Communications Officer, but a sudden weight on his shoulder stopped him. He turned his head slowly and found a gently snoring Vulcan. Spock had finally passed out.

_Great,_ McCoy thought, _now I'm on my own. _He tried to jostle Spock awake, but the First Officer's head was firmly cradled on McCoy's shoulder. _Stubborn Vulcans. Even when they're unconscious, they're a pain in the-_

"No, you listen to me!" The hissed whisper drew his attention to the entrance again. All he could see from the bench was Jim's back. He was leaning forward and, from the looks of things, listening intently. A hand waved back and forth from behind Jim, gesticulating whatever held Kirk's complete attention. After a moment, he nodded, turning to push aside the tent flap.

The High Council's attention was diverted when Lieutenant Uhura strode inside. Jim followed, but from McCoy's position, it looked like he was doing so reluctantly. The Council Guard reacted, placing themselves between Uhura and the rest of the room. McCoy soon found a battle-axe prodding him in the sternum. These guys weren't taking any chances.

Uhura looked mad enough to spit bullets. She leveled a glare at the Head Councilman, who stepped forward to address her.

"Miss Lieutenant, perhaps we were not clear before when I said-"

Uhura spat something back at him in his native tongue. Every Yenan in the room gasped. McCoy's guard actually lowered his axe in shock before remembering himself and adjusting the weapon. The Council was stunned to silence. Uhura's piercing stare was starting to unnerve the Head Councilman. To his further discomfort, she continued.

The tirade lasted several more minutes, sometimes leaving the Yenans in shock, sometimes prompting the axe-man to reconsider using McCoy as a pincushion. He shot a worried glance at Jim, who simply shrugged and gestured at Uhura as if to say 'it's in her hands, not mine'.

After a bit, the dressing-down stopped. To his utter shock, McCoy watched as the Head Councilman bowed before Lieutenant Uhura and muttered an apology into the floor. At a gesture from another Councilman, McCoy was hauled to his feet. His bonds were cut straight away, giving him room to haul Spock upright. Jim rushed over and grabbed Spock's other arm. Uhura was finishing up the verbal flaying. They hustled Spock out of the tent as quickly as they were able. Jim whipped out his communicator.

"Scotty, get us out of here, _now!_"

The beamed back up to the ship. Spock was dragged off to Sickbay, where McCoy started the detox. Minutes later, Uhura stormed in. She had murder in her eyes and a coronet of blue gold on her head. Jim's jaw dropped at the sight of the ornament, a Yenan symbol of almost divine reverence. She was at Spock's side in an instant, checking his vitals and examining the bandage on his forehead with a critical eye.

"So, uh, Nyota…" McCoy began, clearing his throat, "That was… That was really something. What'd you say to 'em that got Mister High-an'-Mighty in such a state?"

Uhura's glare softened. "I accused them of intentionally poisoning Spock and threatened to proclaim their heinous behavior to the whole village. On Yenan, the murder of a guest is punishable by partial dismemberment, followed by exile." She smirked. "That got them begging for forgiveness pretty quick."

It was McCoy's turn to pick his jaw up off the floor. "I… Well, thank you for the rescue. Spock got quite the goose egg when he bought it on the tent peg. I'm glad you got us back to the ship when you did. It's nothing serious, but I'd like to be careful anyhow, what with him being absolutely plastered an' all."

Jim couldn't help but snort at this, and Uhura even cracked a smile.

"And I'm sure he'll never hear the end of it. I'm going to tear him a new one as soon as he sobers up."

McCoy laughed along with Jim, but he certainly wouldn't trade places with Spock in the morning.

After all, he knew that Uhura's silver tongue was a thing to be feared indeed.

**A/N: How'd'ya like it? Thank you so much everybody for the prompts! They are great and I'm really enjoying them. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I have finals this week, so updates may be few and far between until the 13th at least! But, anyway, enjoy this!**

He knows Scotty can keep a secret.

The first time he noticed was in Sickbay one day, when one of the boys in red came in with second degree burns. While McCoy made a couple of passes with the dermal regenerator, the kid had told him everything: the girl he was trying to impress, the elaborate lunch plans, the quesadillas that had over-cooked on the Secondary Particle Pulse Cell, everything.

Scotty had nodded along sympathetically, as if he already knew the whole story. Probably watched it blow up. McCoy didn't say anything, just regenerated the kid's flesh and told him in few words not to do anything like that again. After his patient left, McCoy received a pointed look from the Chief Engineer. It was pretty clear he didn't want the word getting out about this. McCoy'd file the report, sure, but gossip spread on this ship faster than butter on hot bread. The last thing this kid needed, he supposed, is an even worse ending to his day. McCoy agreed. They didn't speak of it again.

Nobody tried to cook anything else in Engineering. Unless you counted Scotty's brewery, but that was one secret that McCoy was _very_ willing to keep.

The next time had been slightly more awkward. It was late and McCoy had just performed three different surgeries, one of them on Jim. He had knocked back his fifth shot of Menkalinan Vodka and fallen onto the floor. The ceiling had been spinning when Scotty walked in. It took the engineer not two seconds to realize what had happened. McCoy vaguely remembered being hoisted by the armpits and dragged over to the office couch. He'd woken up with a towel draped over him like a blanket, a couple of detox hypos on the table by his head, a trash can half-full of vomit on the floor next to him, and the mother of all headaches. Scotty'd never said a word.

He'd returned to work the next morning somewhat sober and aware. All three of his patients pulled through.

The third time, he had been more amused than anything else. Not too many people knew this, but the Captain and the Communications Officer got along a lot better than they appeared to. McCoy knew for a fact that they were pretty close. He was making his weekly crawl through Jeffries Tube 11-7B. Jim and Nyota held 'council' in one of the chamber openings, the one that housed the Modular Resonance Matrix for the eighth deck, which just so happened to share an air vent with said Jeffries Tube. McCoy had just replaced the grate when a noise caught his attention. Somebody else was scuffling around in the vent with him. He turned sharply and cracked skulls with none other than Montgomery Scott.

"Scotty!" He hissed. "What in the name of all that's holy-"

"Hush, McCoy! The show's about ta start!"

The doctor blanked for a moment.

Scotty raised an eyebrow. "That _is_ why you're crawlin' around an air vent at this time o' night, am I wrong?"

McCoy shook his head. "Nope. I'm here for the same reason you are. Probably. I hope."

Scott nodded. "Good. Then ye might wanna keep yer voice down. They're about to arrive."

The two of them scooted the rest of the way to the special grate. From here, they'd have the best view of the action.

"So… You watch this… often?" McCoy posed the question cautiously.

"Aye. Wouldn't miss this for the world. It's some high-class entertainment if ye ask me."

McCoy nodded slowly. "I guess you could say that. Yeah. It's… interesting to say the least."

"True, true. Shush! Ah hear 'em coming!"

The pair huddled down next to the grate and watched as another panel popped off on the other side of the chamber. Jim's head poked out and scanned the room. McCoy held his breath. Seeing no sign that they had company, Jim crawled out and beckoned for Uhura to follow. The first thing McCoy saw was the big pink bag.

"Is that…"

"Aye. And Ah think she's got some new stuff in there this week."

"Oh… Oh boy."

Jim ducked back in the vent. He returned with a big, fuzzy, and glaringly pink blanket that he spread across the ground.

"You ready for this?" He asked.

"Are you sure, Jim? I mean, how long will this take?"

Jim made a face. "Oh come on. I've done this a million times." Nyota snorted. "No… I meant… I'm an expert. Don't worry about it."

She sighed. "If you say so. And not a word of this to Spock. There's no telling what'll start in that head of his."

Jim smiled. "As long as you don't tell Carol. Now, let me get started."

He sat down on the blanket and patted a spot for Nyota to sit. He pulled off his shoes, then his socks. She grabbed the pink bag and then sat down in front of him.

"What color do you want your nails?"

McCoy and Scotty looked on as Nyota passed bottle after bottle of nail polish to Jim. He scrutinized each one before selecting a vivid yellow.

"It matches the shirt." He offered as some sort of explanation.

"Alright. Toes out."

"Ok. Hey, turn around. I need to get started on your hair."

Nyota shifted her position and picked up Jim's left foot. He snorted and tried to suppress a giggle as he portioned out her hair and began the most complex braid McCoy had ever seen.

"So, Eddie Leslie and Lieutenant M'Ress…?"

"I'd give it a week, unless poor Ed gets his act together. M'Ress was talking to me over lunch. Says Leslie doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. Awkward too, if I caught her meaning right. Caitian relational syntax is pretty new to me. M'Ress has been helping me a lot."

"Mhmm. Hey, turn your head a bit to the right. I lost a piece."

"Oh. Sure thing."

They gossiped. They swapped Academy stories. They debated Spock's greatest Vulcan reaction of the week. At one point, McCoy was passed a bag of popcorn. He didn't refuse.

Yes, Scotty had better be very good at keeping secrets. Otherwise, they might find themselves on the wrong side of an airlock one of these days.

**A/N: So, so very fun to write. I'm being overrun by prompts and I LOVE IT!**

**Enjoy your week, gang. Have a good one.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I survived my physics final! (Read: barely) Here's a chapter for y'all.**

He knows that his medical staff will have his back.

Which is good, because his trash can full of vomit wasn't going to empty itself. He was in his quarters, sick as a dog, and begging for a call from his Head Nurse telling him that they'd finished synthesizing the cure the crew needed. The Kalouan Influenza that Ensign Torres had picked up on Starbase 14 had spread quickly. Luckily, Medical had gotten its act together and implemented anti-contagion protocols throughout the ship. This had saved the Command crew, their head Biologists, Engineering, and most of the regular crew.

Unfortunately, the CMO had been one of the first casualties.

McCoy threw up again, this time in his own toilet. He had practically lived in his bathroom for the last three days, making minimum contact with the outside world. The nest he'd built in his shower was pretty comfortable, but it was far from the padding of his bed. Really. He needed to stay in the bathroom almost constantly. One of the nastier side effects of Kalouan Influenza was persistent colon evacuation. Really enjoying that one.

The door chimed. McCoy reached for the communicator on the side of the sink. He pressed the second button and heard the tiny beep outside. Scotty had rigged a quick little setup on the outside of his door- i.e. he taped another communicator to the wall- so the doctor could enlighten the outside world to his suffering.

"It's Stacey, boss."

He breathed a sigh of relief. As much of a blessing as Nurse Chapel had been, Nurse Edmund Stacey knew how to handle a Medbay. Though not quite as thorough as his predecessor, Nurse Stacey knew his business and wouldn't take any lip from the crew. McCoy was grateful for that.

He mashed the button again. His throat was too raw for words, so this was pretty much the only way Stacey'd know he was still conscious.

"We've just about got it, boss. Aarna and Ketzil just started rolling out the first batch. I'm here to give you painkillers and check your vitals before we start administering the cure."

McCoy fell back against the wall. _They did it. They finally did it. If I didn't feel like I just got hit by a shuttle, I'd tear into 'em for takin' such a blasted long time._ Instead of acting on his weak rage, the doctor buzzed Nurse Stacey in. Soon enough, the Head Nurse found him in his shower nest. Stacey chuckled.

"Rough day, boss?"

McCoy tried to growl, but it came out more like a wheeze. Stacey bit his lip and put on a professional face.

"I'm just here for a checkup, I swear. You'll have that miracle hypo in about half an hour. Think you can keep it together that long?"

Despite the urge to summon up his most withering glare, McCoy managed a civil nod. Unfortunately, the room started to spin again. He pitched forward, scrambling for either the bucket or the can, whichever he could get to first. What he didn't expect was to be bodily removed from his shower-nest and then plunked down in front of the bowl. Not to say that he wasn't incredibly grateful right then and there.

As soon as the meager contents of his stomach had been expelled, he felt the dizzy urge to fall forward.

"_No…"_ Stacey instructed, both confused and insistent, pulling McCoy backwards. "Not that way. For Pete's sake, boss."

McCoy attempted to swat at Stacey, but missed by a mile. He felt the painkiller as soon as it was applied. _Nothing like drugs to make you feel better. Crap, that was awful. Is it that bad?_ He was back in the shower nest, desperately trying to burrow into the wall.

"Hang on, boss. Lemme get a reading real quick." McCoy grunted, holding still while Stacey pressed a couple of buttons on his tricorder. "Alright." He commented, standing once more. "You're doing alright. Yeah, I know," He countered McCoy's indignant whine, "You feel like you lost a fight with a steamroller. Sure. But, your fever hasn't risen and you'll get a hypo hot off the presses in about twenty minutes. I'll bring it down myself." Stacey let the tricorder fall back to his hip. "Try and get a nap in while I'm gone. I've still got Sulu to check on. Insisted that he be last. Oh well."

Stacey backed out of the cramped bathroom with a half-smile on his face. "See you in twenty. Call me if you need anything."

McCoy listened for the outer door, then pulled the assorted blankets closer. _Two days. They synthesized the cure from scratch in two days using only a scatterbrained biologist's notes and dead cells from an infected worm. And they say Medical's the weakest link in the chain…_

He curled up as tightly as he could without upsetting his stomach. Stacey had said to try and get a nap in. Nap he would. McCoy settled after a minute, feeling the ache in his muscles subside.

He knew his medical staff had his back. The _Enterprise_didn't boast the 'best crew in the fleet' by an average.

[Ignore the formatting because I am on mobile, trapped at an unfortunate family event!]


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Happy Monday! Here's an update!**

He knew that, in a dire situation, Starfleet-issue communicators were absolute garbage.

"McCoy to _Enterprise! Enterprise, _do you read me? Blast it all-!"

They were pinned down behind a rock. A large, snow-covered rock. That was all that stood between them, and a squad of angry Kzinti. The catlike warriors were trying their darnedest to gun McCoy and an already injured Sulu down.

"It's no use, Doc!" Sulu shouted over the wind. "The storm's blocking the signal!"

"What storm?" McCoy hollered. They were decked out in snow gear, but it was still frighteningly cold. "You call this a storm? It's barely a flurry! I've seen more snow in _Texas_ than we're gettin'-" A disruptor blast chipped off a good portion of their shelter. McCoy shook the bits off and turned to check on Sulu. The Helmsman was holding up admirably, considering the hits he'd taken so far. When they'd been ambushed initially, the Kzinti had tried taking out the officers quietly. Sulu'd narrowly avoided getting clobbered on the back of the head. Still, Kzinti assassins weren't nothin' to sneeze at either. The Lieutenant had come away with a few less-critical knocks to the head, a stab wound in his upper thigh, and two broken ribs.

Another burst of disruptor fire. Something hit McCoy square in the back and forced him to eat snow. He turned his head to find that _Sulu _had tackled him.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He shouted over the weapons barrage.

"Getting you out of the line of fire, Doc. I suggest you stay down." McCoy saw the Helmsman flinch as he reached for his phaser.

"With you in this condition? I think not!" Before he could so much as get his hands under him, the doctor found Sulu's knee planted firmly between his shoulder blades. All leverage gone, McCoy had to wait on the ground. The sounds of battle intensified briefly before the weight left his back. He could hear the Kzinti snarling off in the distance, but they had not retreated far. _So that means…_

McCoy pushed himself off the ground quickly. His worst fears were confirmed. Sulu was propped up against the rock just barely still sitting up. The Doctor rushed to his side. In the fight, he'd sustained additional injuries from both rock shrapnel and directs disruptor hits. McCoy thanked his lucky stars that the Kzinti hadn't had enough time to redevelop disintegration weapons. Still, the wounds weren't pretty. Sulu was breathing hard, clutching his phaser in one hand and his shoulder in the other. McCoy was at his side in an instant. He pulled back the Lieutenant's hand, which offered surprisingly little resistance, to reveal the shoulder wound first. The Kzinti disruptor had seared the muscled flesh between Sulu's neck and acromion. By the looks of things, the bolt had just missed Sulu's clavicle but had burned straight through his trapezius. _Crap._

Sulu's head lolled to the side, revealing a singed patch of hair just above his ear. _That was a close one._ McCoy analyzed the situation. His piece of crap communicator was misbehaving, the Kzinti were regrouping, and he had a nearly unconscious officer to get to safety.

"Come on, Sulu. I'm getting' you outta here." He grabbed the Lieutenant's phaser and stuffed it in the back of his waistband for the time being. McCoy got down on one knee and pulled Sulu up and over his shoulders. The Helmsman groaned but made no other sound. One of the Kzinti called out behind them. _No time like the present,_ McCoy mused. He ran.

The snow was still falling, and for that he was actually kind of grateful. Their Starfleet-issue Thermal Gear would disguise them pretty well from the Kzinti. Especially if he could gain some distance. His boots were getting pretty good traction on the slushy ground. _We might just make it outta here._

Running was difficult, what with a whole grown man slung over his shoulders, but McCoy made pretty good time to the nearest cover. This planet was just full of ice dunes, land-bergs, or whatever the heck you called the random chunks poking up out of the ground. He was from the South, blast it all, and the terrain was more confusing than it needed to be.

Eventually, he spotted a pretty large stab that they could hide behind. He slid between the pointed masses and discovered a crevice big enough to conceal them both. It was a tight squeeze, but McCoy managed to slip inside and lower Sulu to the ground. He crouched down next to the inured pilot and pulled off his medical tricorder. The scans told him everything he already knew, and confirmed some additional hunches. Sulu was in pretty bad shape.

McCoy pulled his communicator back out of his pocket. He didn't know how close the Kzinti were, so he'd have to keep the volume to a minimum.

"_Enterprise_" He hissed, "Come in, please! We have severe casualties. _Enterprise, _do you read?" McCoy held his breath. The only sounds to be heard were the gusting winds from outside and the shallow gasps from Sulu. All was quiet. And then…

He did not know that sound was even possible.

The unholy screech that sprang to life was enough to make McCoy drop the possessed communicator. A pained look crossed Sulu's face. The Helmsman squirmed, caught between the pain in his ears and the rest of his body. McCoy bit the bullet and picked up the yowling box. Mashing buttons did nothing for several seconds. Eventually, he ended up just smashing the communicator against the wall. Sulu slumped further against the ice. McCoy sucked in a breath. He had just destroyed a piece of equipment 'valuable' to their escape effort. The doctor hoped that it wouldn't prove to be a real setback.

Something crunched outside.

McCoy spun around, planting himself between the entrance and his patient. He remembered Sulu's phaser. With the beam emitter aimed dead ahead, McCoy threw a glance over his shoulder. Suddenly, the trampling of snow was far too close. He whipped his head back around. The Kzinti had arrived. Before he could pop off a shot, a large paw circled his wrists and jerked the weapon down. McCoy stumbled forward, right into the recoil pad of a Kzinti disruptor rifle. He tried to free his phaser. A second Kzinti appeared and thrust the butt of his weapon into McCoy's face. The doctor fell back.

They were trapped. McCoy shook his head, trying to clear the stars that were flashing too close to his face. Somebody grabbed the collar of his coat. He was off the ground and kicking for footholds in an instant.

"_Stop!_"

The clear but quiet command halted the Kzinti warrior. Doctor and Assassin both turned. Sulu had an arm wrapped around his middle, but he was awake.

"Stop…" The Helmsman wheezed. "Let him go. Take me instead. He's just a doctor. I'm a starship pilot."

"Sulu! You cut th-" Chokehold strengthened, McCoy had no choice but to shut up. The first Kzinti turned to his companion and growled something. McCoy couldn't understand, but even if he could, he had more pressing concerns. _Sulu's pullin' some fool-headed stunt, tryin'a' sacrifice himself. Pointless. Doesn't he know what these fellas'll do if they get their hands on 'im? _

The Kzinti released his hold. McCoy dropped. He was trying to catch his breath when his attacker began advancing toward his patient. _No. Not on your life, pal._ He scanned the floor for something, _anything_, he could use to fight off the assassin.

In the end, he didn't need to. A high-pitched whine filled the crevice. It grew in intensity until the Kzinti found themselves on their knees, trying desperately to block out the sound. McCoy was about to join them, when a pained look from his patient told him it was time to act. He lunged. The second Kzinti had kicked his phaser away, but it was soon back where it belonged. He stunned both of the aliens and then sent a pleading look to Sulu, begging the Helmsman with his eyes to _please_ _kill that agonizing sound._ The terror ended with a satisfying crunch.

"That… was our last one, Doc."

McCoy might've laughed, if the situation hadn't been this grim.

"That may be true, Sulu, but we've taken care of the main problem. Now all we have to do is contact the-"

There was another set of footsteps nearby. Running footsteps. Without a second thought, McCoy turned the phaser on his patient and fired. Sulu sagged, unconscious. Putting himself back in his defensive position, McCoy prepared for the worst. He leveled his weapon at the entrance. A second ticked by. Two. A shadow fell across the path. McCoy's finger tightened around the trigger.

"Bones! Bon- _Geez, Bones_, put that thing away!" The phaser dropped to his side.

"Took y'all long enough."

Jim cracked a smile. "Glad to see you too. Now where's…" The Captain's chipper expression vanished at the sight of the still Helmsman. "_Sulu!"_ Jim was off like a shot, barreling past the doctor and over to the far end of the crevice.

"Sulu! Sulu, can you hear me? Sulu? No… Bones tell me he isn't-"

"He's not dead, Jim, just stunned."

The face Jim made was priceless, but McCoy knew he'd get a real flaying if he didn't explain things quickly.

"I had to. When the Kzinti ambushed us the first time, he made like he was going to sacrifice himself. I couldn't let him do it again." McCoy knelt down next to his patient and motioned for Jim to help.

"If there's one thing I know, it's that Sulu's one of the most selfless men on the whole ship, heck, probably in all of Starfleet." He hoisted one end of the Helmsman carefully while the Captain took care of the other.

"That, and these communicators are absolutely _worthless._ Remind me to file another complaint when we get back to he ship."

"_Another?_ Bones, the admiralty has to have a stack of PADDs a mile high with the all the complaints you've sent in."

McCoy snorted. "Just shut up and help me move my patient."

**A/N: Love me some Sulu. And I only have one more final before my schedule opens up completely. **

**Send me some prompts! Ha ha I have so many but I can't resist. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Short baby bab chapter. I'll have more time later this week for some longer stuff. ENJOY!**

He knew Chekov was a little more insecure than the kid let on.

McCoy'd tried to keep an eye on him, help the kid out when he could. Chekov seemed to relax when people reacted positively to him. As the CMO on the _Enterprise,_ McCoy got to see lots of these interactions. He observed the way Chekov behaved around certain crewmembers. The Bridge crew, both alpha and beta shifts, seemed to really respect him and get along with him well.

It was the gamma shift that McCoy'd have to straighten out.

It was mostly the science team, perhaps because they were jealous of the attention Chekov got from their department head. The kid was a genius, no doubt about it. There was no need for the kinds of shenanigans going on.

Oh, shenanigans there were. McCoy had been witness to several, some even in his own Sickbay. Chekov had been jokingly prodded and just short of harassed over a myriad of things by a couple of immature scientists.

At first, the incidents could be written off as simple pranks, or banter between coworkers. McCoy remembered the conversations in the mess hall. Most of the crew in blue had laughed about it. Chekov just seemed put out.

Other times, he'd see a bit of rough-housing in the rec. Some of the bigger lads and ladies would challenge Chekov in a task where they'd have him beat. Only, they were looking for a punch line rather than an honest match. McCoy was glad that Chekov had a friend in Sulu. The fencing lessons in the rec room were always genial. The Helmsman would help his friend improve technique, or coach on maneuvers.

And Sulu wasn't the only one. He'd seen Chekov jogging with the Captain on multiple occasions. When Jim was busy, Spock would invite the young navigator for a game of chess. As the occasion presented itself, Scotty would summon Chekov to Engineering. They'd likely go over technical manuals or plan improvements. Also, there was no drinking age in space.

Still, the pranks would persist. McCoy would hear about them through the grapevine, usually nurses gossiping when they thought he wasn't listening. He'd overheard stories of benign explosions, creative uses for toothpaste, and even an unfortunate laundry mix-up.

The CMO drew the line at the 'lotion incident'.

He was privy to the knowledge that Ensign Chekov was allergic to aloe, but not many other people were. How Science Lab 4 got ahold of the information, who knows? Maybe he needed to buckle down on his department's security. It was still a mess.

The teen suffered occasionally from acne breakouts but when Chekov had skittered into Sickbay one evening with a peculiar rash, he knew something else was up. The red, flaky skin that ringed Chekov's eyes had been difficult to treat, and more difficult still was getting the story.

Chekov couldn't figure it out right away. He'd been examining samples for Commander Spock in Lab 4. Gradually, his eyes became more and more irritated. He couldn't figure out why. As McCoy worked, the young man quieted. He'd come to the conclusion that the microscopes had been contaminated somehow. Spock decided to assign Chekov a microscope of his own to avoid further incident. Although Chekov wrote it off as an unfortunate accident, McCoy had the tricorder readings from his examination to prove otherwise.

He didn't tell Chekov, but the 'accident' was composed of _pure_ aloe. This was no facial cream. Enough was enough. Time to take matters into his own hands.

Lab 4 didn't know what hit them. For the next several days, men and women could be seen sporting what used to be called 'pancake faces'. But, sufficient makeup on a starship was scarce. Slowly, the red spots began to show. But, as he'd planned, none of them came to McCoy. Bitter irony had them crawling to Chekov for help. Of course, the ensign advised them politely, if not a little smugly, on the proper treatment.

It took weeks, but the acne epidemic cleared itself up. The ship ran smoothly again, and a chipper ensign was seen smiling more often.

McCoy would never tell a soul about the willful sabotage of every microscope except Chekov's, because he knew the young man belonged on the ship, same as the rest of them. And he wouldn't tolerate anything else.

**A/N: As cute as new Chekov is, sarcastic, sassy Chekov of old will always have a special place in my heart. **

**I AM working through my prompts list, see? Next up: Hendorff, probably. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Two prompts for the price of one! Extra long chapter because I love y'all! Enjoy!**

He knew that Jim wouldn't be above embarrassing himself, if the stakes were high enough.

That's why they were gathered in a tense circle, the whole bar stilled and waiting for someone to snap. It was a deep cover mission, i.e.: Don't violate the Prime Directive. During the course of their investigation into the Moseppan unrest, the away team had ended up tracking down a rogue government official to a seedy bar on the wrong side of town. Unfortunately, one thing led to another and Jim found himself surrounded by a bunch of rough looking fellers. McCoy was right there by his side. He kept trying to signal Chief Security Officer Hendorff or one of the other men in their detail, but something else was occupying their attention. A couple of wayward youths were making just enough ruckus to distract them.

"Listen, fellas," Jim soothed, "We're not looking for any trouble. My friend and I were just here to uh… let off some steam. Y'know. Drown our sorrows in a couple of cold ones." Quick on his feet, Jim stumbled over to one of the men and threw an arm around his shoulders. McCoy was impressed at Jim's acting. He'd gone from sober to sloppy drunk in a rather convincing three seconds. "You wouldn't deny a guy that, would'ya?" He hiccupped for effect. One dazzling smile later, and the men seemed to back off.

"Yeah, well…" The ringleader shoved Jim back toward the bar. "Just keep it to yourselves, y'hear? Keep your nose outta other people's business."

Jim giggled. McCoy struggled to keep the shock out of his expression. "You got it, man. Come on, Bones, next round's on me." He kept his posture slouched, but Jim's face had hardened.

"That was too close, Jim. Hendorff and the others might not've made it over here quick enough. You ever seen a man outrun a switchblade? From across a room?"

"Relax, Bones." Jim flagged down the bartender, ordered a couple more shots with a wink, and went back to his conversation. "Cupcake is right there and those meatheads bought it. Now, all we have to do is maintain a low profile."

"Like you've ever been able to do that in your life."

Jim's face exploded into mock outrage. "You wound me, Doctor." The bartender came back around with the drinks and Jim paid, as he said he would. "Just keep sitting with me and at least act like you're trying to get sloshed. You're a terrible actor, Bones. Maybe you need all of these for yourself." He shoved a glass McCoy's way. The Doctor looked at it, then Jim, and then at the ceiling.

"I don't know why I ever agreed to do this."

"We needed a medical expert."

"Yeah, well Stacey could'a done it."

"Yeah, well Stacey wouldn't have looked as natural in a dive like this. Six-foot-four Egyptian beanpole? No, they'd read 'went to real school' on him a mile off. Now, you, Bones, you were made for the role! Been training all your adult life-"

McCoy elbowed Jim in the ribs. Hard. "That's enough outta you. You're supposed to be three sheets to the wind, remember?"

Jim threw his head back and cackled. To McCoy's amazement, he didn't get a single odd look. _Son-of-a-gun's pulling it off. _He sighed.

"I'm gonna head out back and try to call the ship. Somebody's gotta do the check-in. Spock'll be expecting one in about five."

"Alright, Bones." He murmured as the doctor stood. "Don't get lost!" He called as McCoy walked away. The CMO rolled his eyes skyward. _He's having way too much fun with this._

The back hall led to a pair of restrooms and the kitchen, as well as a rusted metal door at the end. McCoy looked around the dimly lit space. He spotted a bucket he could use to prop the door while he made the call. With his makeshift doorstop in place, McCoy ventured out. Moseppa boasted a fairly mild winter in its central region, so the night air was no cooler than an average Georgian autumn. There was a light drizzle, but nothing McCoy couldn't stand for a few minutes. He searched around in his coat pockets for his communicator. All of the sudden, somebody grabbed him.

He was pulled back, spun quickly. Before he could so much as give a shout, there was a fist punching the air right out of him. Another assailant snatched him up. One beefy arm wrapped around McCoy's middle and pinned his arms to his sides. The other clamped a hand over the Doctor's mouth. It was over in a second. He was trapped.

The first attacker stepped forward with a smirk. "Well, what do we have here? Whatcha doing out behind the bar all by yourself?" His lip twitched. "I hope you're not just out here for a smoke, I really do. Otherwise, this would be awkward for both of us." McCoy made sure to get a good look at the one man he could see. _Provided that they don't kill me, I can identify them later, or at least properly describe 'em to Jim…_ This talkative feller was about a head shorter than he was, hence the need for some extra muscle. Short Stack was weasel-y at best, downright creepy at worst. He had a crazy glint in his eyes, but was otherwise fairly clean cut. McCoy supposed he looked average by daylight. Here in the back alley though…

The Weasel took a step forward. He started reaching out toward McCoy, something the Doctor was in no way gonna tolerate. Prime Directive or not, he wasn't about to let this slimy little runt find his communicator. He kicked out, landing a solid hit to Weasel's elbow. The little pest squealed and McCoy was about to congratulate himself, when the big guy put the squeeze on him. He compressed, and the hand shifted to smother him. He couldn't breathe. Kicking seemed to be his best tactic, but it proved fruitless against the giant. Black spots started clouding his vision. _I'm not gonna make it._

Before he went completely limp, the giant released McCoy's nose. He sucked in air, sagging in the giant's grip. Weasel took this opportunity to finish what he'd started. He searched McCoy's coat first, to the Doctor's dismay. He felt it the moment the black box was discovered.

"Well, well," Weasel's eyes widened. "Looks like I was right, Teromad, they're Starfleet."

McCoy stiffened. _How do they know? If they know about Starfleet, then they must not be… No, 'Teromad' sounds distinctly un-Moseppan. Almost like…_ He looked carefully at the runt in front of him, then down at the arms pinning him. There was… something rubbing off on his jacket. Just a bit, but it was enough. The bare arm of his captor was exposed. The tan paint was rubbing off, revealing just a hint of _green._

_Orions._

"Oh, don't look so surprised." The Weasel waved his hand at McCoy. He grinned, seeing the discomfort in his captive's face. "You may have just put it together, but we've known all about you, the six people visiting this humble establishment, and your _Captain._ Rest assured, they'll be well cared for." He stepped forward and clapped McCoy on the shoulder. "And you'll have the best seat in the house. We've got big plans for you. See that door, the one you came through?" McCoy saw it was no longer propped open. The Weasel continued, "Well, any minute now, your Captain is going to come rushing out of it. You've been gone for an _awfully long time_ for… just a quick check-in with the ship, I assume? Anyway. He's going to come through that door, and Teromad here is going to take him out." He leaned in close, right up to McCoy's face. "Won't that be fun to watch."

The Doctor scowled, not willing to give the runt any satisfaction.

"Best be getting started. Get him ready, my friend."

The arm that pinned him was removed. _Now's my chance,_ McCoy hoped._ If I can just-_ Something jabbed into the side of his neck. A fog seemed to rush into his head, blurring his vision and numbing contact with his limbs. His knees buckled. His captor kept him suspended by the collar of his coat, but that was the only thing keeping him up. The ground was spinning in front of him. All sensation was gone from his legs, he realized. McCoy tried throwing a punch, but his arm barely moved.

Teromad dragged him over a few feet toward the edge of the light. The Orion dropped him half in and half out of the shadows, where he would be spotted but only after a search. This tactic would give them time to jump Jim while he was focused on other things. Teromad and his companion had it all figured out, then. _Please, please, Jim, don't come out by yourself. Bring your phaser, bring Hendorff, at least bring something!_

Unfortunately, his silent plea was in vain. The door opened a fraction. He saw a head poke out of the crack, hooded against the rain. _That's Jim's jacket. _His stomach twisted. He couldn't do a thing, couldn't even warn Jim of the danger. McCoy was paralyzed and Jim was walking into a trap. The Captain stepped out of the door, letting it swing wide. He scanned the alley for a sign. McCoy knew the moment he'd been spotted.

"Doctor McCoy!"

_No…! That's not-_

Teromad leapt from the shadows. McCoy saw the glint of a blade in his hand. What he didn't see was the swiftest defense on this side of the galaxy. His eyes had unfocused for a second and 'next thing he knew, the Orion was on the ground groaning. One swift kick and he was completely out.

That was when the Weasel made his move. He sprang out from his hiding spot down the alley. Fortunately for McCoy, a much swifter obstacle appeared in his path.

"Now, just where do you think you're going?"

The Weasel recoiled slightly, and then seemed to realize something. He reached into his own coat and pulled out an interesting looking knife.

"I think I'm going wherever I please, Captain." He spat out the title like an insult. "You may have surprised my-"

"You seem to be mistaken, pal." McCoy's defender took a step forward. The Weasel took a step back. "I'm no Captain. I'm not a diplomat, either. In fact, my line of work requires a whole different kind of 'negotiation'."

At that moment, the back door swung open again. McCoy recognized the blond head at once. Jim was caught off guard by the scene unfolding in the alleyway.

"Cupcake, what're you doing? Where's B- _Bones!" _Jim was off like a shot, but McCoy's attention was drawn to the cowering figure in the alleyway.

"Did… no… Cupcake?" Instead of a mocking tone as he might've expected, there was fear in the Weasel's voice. Pure, undiluted terror. Jim slid to a stop on the concrete, but McCoy wasn't paying attention. The little runt had dropped his knife and was now _begging _the _Enterprise's _Head of Security for mercy.

"We did not know! Honestly! I swear we didn't know-" Cupcake hoisted the rat up off the ground. In the Captain's hoodie, he looked awfully menacing.

"Bones?" Jim was blocking his view of the action. He blinked, trying to get a better look or at least re-focus his eyes. "Bones, answer me. What did they do to you?" Jim was lifting him up off the filthy ground. McCoy still didn't have a lot of motor control, probably wouldn't for some time_. My head's gonna flop to the side in a second._ _If I can just make sure it goes this way…_ He slumped to the left, exposing the bruise that heavy-handed Teromad had made. Jim hissed and tightened his grip on the failing Doctor.

"Hendorff, we need to get Bones back to the ship _ASAP!_ They gave him something. He's barely conscious."

There was a _thud_ and a scuffle. Suddenly, Hendorff appeared in McCoy's line of vision. "If you want to finish uh… questioning them, Captain, I can get the Doctor back to the ship." Jim looked back down at his friend's face. McCoy tried to put on a reassuring expression, but it didn't seem to work. The Captain squeezed his shoulder again before shifting to pass him off to Hendorff.

"Take him. I'll handle these clowns." Jim was up and away. The Head of Security whipped out his communicator.

"Hang on, Doctor. We'll have you back to Sickbay in no time. Hendorff to _Enterprise. Enterprise, _please respond. Two to beam up immediately, have Stacey and the gang meet us in the transporter room. Doctor McCoy's been drugged with something, symptoms include paralysis… that's about all we know." Hendorff pulled McCoy closer and turned the Doctor onto his side. _Good move. This way I won't drown in my own vomit if the drugs go bad. Yippee. _

They were back on the ship in a moment. Head Nurse Stacey was just running in with a gurney. First things first, McCoy's heavy coat had to go. He got a mask out of the trade; glad to know his team had him covered. _Good,_ He noted as they sped him off toward Sickbay,_ They're going through all the proper procedures like clockwork. What a great team. Works well under pressure, can handle a crisis even if it involves their own Department Head. I love my team. Wait… what did Stacey give me?_

A couple of hyposprays later, and McCoy was sitting up in a biobed. Well, propped up by pillows, that is. Stacey had him on some pretty good stuff. The chemical that the Orions-in-disguise gave him was nasty, although fairly easy to counteract. He was experimenting with his slow-returning motor functions when the Sickbay doors opened. He glanced up to find none other than Cupcake idling in the doorway. At that moment, Nurse Stacey returned with his tricorder.

"Oh, hello Giotto." He smiled at the Head of Security. "You've come to see the Boss? Yeah, he's awake." Stacey turned to McCoy, grinning either at the sight of his Department Head trying desperately to twitch his toes or the idea of the conversation about to occur. "You can go talk to him if you'd like. The Orion's compound is still wearing off, though. Hey Boss! You've got a visitor!"

McCoy rolled his eyes. _At least I've kept control over that._ Hendorff walked up to the side of the bed. He looked around, located a chair, and pulled it alongside. McCoy watched him do all this in silence. Eventually, the Doctor's wordless stare seemed to unnerve the CSO.

"So, uh, are you feeling better, Doctor McCoy?"

_Yes or no questions. I like this guy. _He grunted an affirmative "Mmh". Hendorff nodded at the floor. It could just be the drugs, but McCoy got the distinct feeling that the CSO was _nervous_ about this conversation. _Well, we'll have to do something about that, won't we?_ He was a doctor, and he knew how his patients operated, typically. What Hendorff needed was reassurance. McCoy reached out his arm to clap Hendorff on the shoulder. His elbow spasmed to the side, rolling his arm down and off the side of the bed. His hand hung limply. He groaned, resigned to his fate as a vegetable.

If nothing else, the aborted gesture got Hendorff to look at him. "Doctor McCoy…?" McCoy gave the CSO his best withering glare, daring him to question an act of the ship's Chief Medical Officer. Hendorff nodded again, picked McCoy's arm up, and put it back on the bed. The Doctor sighed.

"Ed says the compound should wear off in about three hours, but I'm sure you're counting down the seconds." Stacey had probably comm'd the Captain as soon as he'd been sure his patient was stable. McCoy wondered how that conversation had gone. Hendorff had gone quiet again, so he threw his arm back off the bed.

"I get the feeling you're trying to tell me something, Doctor." The CSO deadpanned. He picked up the wayward arm again. _Now, just roll with me, blast it! _McCoy managed to twitch two of the fingers in his hand. McCoy made sure to catch his eye this time. Hendorff paused, mid-arm replacement, and waited for the doctor to do… whatever it was. He nodded, once and barely just in case his neck decided to quit cooperating too. The pointer finger was easiest to gain control of. He pointed straight at Hendorff.

"Me."

McCoy blinked. Focusing on his hand again, he managed to bounce his thumb. Once. Twice. He tapped it to the side, moving it perpendicular to the rest of his hand. _Now, for the hard part. _McCoy put all his effort into curling the rest of his fingers. _I hate paralysis. Hate it. Of all the horrible things that can go wrong in space… Temporary paralysis, I know… At least more serious patients have access to bypassing equipment so they can control their limbs. 'No, Boss, it'll wear off in three hours, I swear.' Blast it all, Stacey, I am going to put you on cleanup duty for the next month if I so much as see you grin for the next three hours…_

Halfway through the motion, it clicked. "Oh… Thumbs up? For… me?" Hendorff looked at McCoy for a sign. McCoy blinked, the motion conveying a heart-felt 'Yes, you idiot'.

The CSO released McCoy's arm. "Well, thank you, Doctor. Can't say I deserve it, though considering-" McCoy groaned, so loudly and forcefully that it caused Hendorff to panic. He grabbed the Doctor's hand, searching his face for some clue. McCoy rolled his eyes. Someone snorted. _I swear by all that's Holy, Stacey I will have your head on a tray with my coffee. 'Oh, Nurse Aarna, how thoughtful!' If I wasn't paralyzed, I'd hypo him so hard that _Jim_ would cringe. _

"He is trying to thank you, G." Stacey managed to control his mirth. "And if I know the Boss, he's also sick of that 'self-deprecating crap' you're pulling as well." McCoy was actually pleased. Instead of being a complete nuisance, Nurse Stacey was actually helping.

Hendorff looked surprised. "If I'd have noticed you were gone sooner, I might've been able to prevent this…" The struggle was weak, and he knew it. McCoy gave him the evil-eye.

"You should probably just accept it. This is the nicest the Boss is ever gonna be to you, G." McCoy huffed, but looked pointedly at Hendorff, who sighed.

"I was just doing my job, Doctor, and I'd do it again. Nothing is going to happen to any of you on my watch." Hendorff, now suitably embarrassed, stood to leave. McCoy wasn't done with him yet. He had at least one more question on his mind.

"C-…c…uh…c-…"

"Is he ok? He's not coughing… Trying to clear his throat? Doctor McCoy?"

Stacey ignored Hendorff and studied his boss. McCoy looked Stacey in the eye, then to Hendorff, and then back to Stacey.

"'Cupcake', Boss?"

McCoy let his head drop back on the pillow. _Hooray. I hate charades too, now that I think about it._ Stacey turned to Hendorff.

"Any idea what he's asking?"

"I think I know." He looked back at McCoy. "When you ride with Captain James Kirk, you get into a lot of tough scrapes. When you get out of a lot of tough scrapes and leave the other guys in stitches, word tends to get around."

With that, CSO Hendorff turned and left. Stacey shrugged, offered to call the Captain for his boss, and left to mind his own business.

McCoy had a lot to silently think about for the next three hours. The statement _did_ make sense, now that he considered it. Hendorff was prepared to dive into any situation to protect his people, same as Jim. The undying loyalty that the CSO had displayed from the moment Jim set foot off the _Narada_ never wavered. The Head of Security had Jim's back, and the backs of the crew so long as he was still breathing.

McCoy knew that CSO Giotto "Cupcake" Hendorff was proud of his nickname. Whether it attributed to the love of his Captain or the terror it struck into the hearts of ne'er-do-wells across the galaxy, it was anybody's guess.

**A/N: His initials are G.P. so I took the prompt's suggestion and named him 'Giotto' after the CSO on the ****_Enterprise _****in TOS. Gotta love Cupcake.**

**Do you ever find yourself saying 'Gosh, I love X character. Y is my favorite. Gosh, I love Z...' and so on? That's how I'm feeling every time I do a one shot. Gosh, I love Sulu. Uhura is my favorite. Gosh, I love Cupcake...**

**Thank you for reading! If I don't update again this week, Merry Christmas! Love y'all!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone!**

He knew he could outlast any of the senior staff in a challenge.

_Especially _if there were bragging rights on the line.

They weren't obligated to spend the _whole_ evening with Ambassador Peralinga, the Itesian emissary to the Federation, but the man's inexcusably abrasive personality had the diplomatic squad at their wits end. And dinner hadn't even begun. They were doomed. That is, until there was pride on the line.

Jim had bet a bottle of Itesian Rum and twenty credits that he could outlast the entire away team entertaining the ambassador. A huddled conference at the end of the hall between dinner courses had the rules outlined: No drinking alcohol for any crewmember to numb the pain. No breaks longer than five minutes and no more than one break an hour unless you want immediate expulsion from the contest. And finally, no holovids or visual distractions. You either had to keep the conversation going, or be actively participating. The rest of the contestants would be the judges. Winner takes all.

Spock refused to participate, offering instead to provide 'outs' for anyone who chose to quit.

About three hours into the contest, people started dropping. Chekov was the first to go, after his attempt at introducing a Russian anecdote had blown up in his face. Apparently, Peralinga insulted other cultures indiscriminately, and did not exclude those outside of his own planet. Spock had provided the starship-equivalent of 'did we leave the oven on back home' and sent Chekov to go 'check on things' back aboard the ship.

Sulu had dropped soon afterwards, due to legitimate food poisoning of all things. He reacted badly to something in the fruit dip, and Nurse Stacey had to come in and beam him back to the ship. The Helmsman had even tried to stick it out, tough as he was, but the Captain had superseded the decision. The Council of Judges agreed: No shame for Sulu. His departure was unfortunate and in no way reflected on his character. The pool was down twenty credits. They kept going.

Oddly enough, Jim had gone next. Peralinga had this high-pitched laughter that seemed worse to Jim than nails on a chalkboard. That, and Doctor McCoy had an endless supply of off-color jokes. Eventually, the puns had become too much. The Captain excused himself, glaring at McCoy. Spock stood to join him, leaving Peralinga with the excuse that they were both 'required to finish some reports, all vital to the diplomatic negotiations'.

Jim mouthed "_Get Bones" _to the two other competitors as he left.

Scotty had attempted a coup, honestly he tried his best. He told embarrassing stories about McCoy, and how the Doctor was as accident prone on the ship as their Captain was on shore. The Doctor combatted this with several tales of his own, gleaned from the ship's rumor mill. Not all were completely true, and many were blatant lies, but they were enough to drive Scotty to his wineglass. McCoy and Uhura had given him 'the look'. Scotty's hand stopped midway back down from his mouth. Once he had realized what he'd done, the Chief Engineer scowled, made a remarkable imitation of a communicator bleep, and fake-conversed himself out of the room.

That left only two.

Now, Uhura had been dominating the conversation thus far, mainly because of her wide knowledge of languages. Peralinga boasted a multi-lingual status, mainly the fact that he knew about twenty words in each of his planet's other two languages as well as his own and a firm grasp of Federation standard, but Uhura was eating it up. She discussed the Ambassador's _wide knowledge_ and _refined tastes._ Of course, Peralinga was thrilled at the attention.

McCoy on the other hand, was flagging. Uhura kept the conversation going, but he was far out of his field of expertise. She kept diverting the flow to him, expecting him to make some sort of brilliant commentary. He had nothing, and Peralinga knew it too. If McCoy didn't contribute to Uhura's satisfaction, he'd be out. And there was no way he was going to let that happen. Not while he still had a fighting chance.

"Pardon me, Ambassador, but I couldn't help but notice the fine quality of your planet's wine. I have a shamefully low tolerance for alcohol myself- I'd get drunker than a rat at an Andorian Ale House on less than this here cup- but, seeing as how you're the resident cultural expert, would you care to enlighten me on your winemaking traditions?"

McCoy's mark hit home. He'd observed the subtle consumption of wine on the Ambassador's part throughout the meal. He was three glasses in, but would go for far more, given the opportunity. When Peralinga's face lit up and Uhura's fell, McCoy knew he had it in the bag.

The Ambassador called for another glass of wine for each of them. He instructed in the proper routine for maximum appreciation. McCoy was told to take a sniff of the wine, relish in its flavor. He did so. When Uhura cleared her throat, he simply smiled.

"Don't worry about me, Lieutenant. I didn't drink a drop. I know just what Jim would say. The thought of me, drunk as a skunk on a diplomatic mission!" His hand went to his forehead, dramatically. "You know I'm better than that!"

He was laying it on so thick, Peralinga was actually starting to notice things outside of himself. They laughed at 'Silly Lieutenant Uhura' for thinking McCoy'd ever do anything to upset their most gracious, humble, and vastly charming host.

It was six glasses of wine in, and Peralinga suggested they visit the poolside.

Uhura lasted forty more minutes.

One could only stand so many drunken renditions of the same song. Eight glasses. There were only so many times one could laugh at the same punch line. Ten glasses. She called it quits at the story of 'The Whale and The Barhopping Senator', given twelve glasses in and for the fifth time. McCoy was laughing so hard, he was nearly doubled over, and it wasn't for the reason Peralinga thought.

The look on Uhura's face was priceless.

She called it a night and beamed back up to the ship.

_Six hours later_ McCoy called in. The team was about to start another betting pool on when he'd get back. Scotty got the request to beam up well after midnight. None of them knew quite what to expect. If McCoy came back plastered, the bet was off and Uhura would win. If he came back sober and alive…

The glow faded and there was McCoy, alert and grinning. He had an unopened bottle in one hand, and a silver butter knife in the other.

"You're lookin' at the newest Honorary Knight of the State of Itesar, with 'sword' and all. Pay up, y'all."

As it turns out, Ambassador Peralinga _did_ have that power. McCoy began badgering the rest of them with tales from the front, how he'd wooed the Ambassador into absolute adoration, how he'd entertained the man for four hours using only recycled jokes and the same story about Jim falling down an exhaust shaft. Eventually, everyone had paid and split, hoping McCoy would just _shut up_ now that he had his reward.

McCoy knew he'd never let them hear the end of it. Well, not for a month, at the _least_.

**A/N: Happy Holidays, y'all. Enjoy yourselves, and have a safe end of the year.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Here's another chapter! I hope everyone had/is having a great holiday!**

He knew that Lieutenant Sulu was fearless.

So the panicked scream just before Sulu hit the water set off alarm bells in McCoy's head.

They were on a cruise, of sorts. The Marecian embassy had received their acceptance into the Federation this morning. Although the _Enterprise_ had only a small part in the diplomatic dealings, the Marecians had been incredibly grateful. All of the diplomatic officers, as well as the bridge crew and about a hundred others, had been invited for a short pleasure cruise courtesy of the embassy.

It had all gone fairly well. Due to the Marecians' shorter stature, most of the ship's safety railings leveled out at the human knee. The crew had been able to avoid incident fairly well, until now.

McCoy hadn't seen how the accident happened, only how poor Sulu ended up. Jim and Councilman Gulamani were peering over the rail when he'd pushed his way to the front of the onlookers. Sulu had resurfaced, and appeared to be treading water.

"He's fine." Jim decided, sounding relieved. "Can we make a loop and come pick him up? Sulu's a great swimmer. He'll be fine for a few minutes."

Gulamani agreed, but McCoy wasn't so sure. He'd worked as a lifeguard in high school, and one of the first things they taught was how to recognize the signs of drowning. It wasn't like in the movies, where the victim thrashed around and screamed at the top of their lungs. No, drowning was a lot quieter and a lot subtler. _This is one of the main reasons why so many children get into trouble_, he remembered, _People don't usually recognize the signs._

McCoy started pushing his way toward the back of the boat. It'd be a minute more before the man at the wheel even got the signal to turn around. He craned his neck to catch sight of Sulu. The Helmsman was fairly still, ramrod straight in the water, with his head just poking up over the surface.

_Crap._

McCoy broke into a run, pushing past idle crewmembers and ambassadors on the deck. He could see the back patio up ahead. There was a row of life jackets hanging on a rack. Snatching the largest one, McCoy kicked off his boots and made for the rail. By now, several people had noticed his rush. A murmur rose among the passengers. He hit the rail running. One foot on the top bar, arms out in front of him, eye on the target.

"_Man overboard!" _He shouted, and leapt.

The volume on deck rose and fell abruptly, as did he. The water rushed up to meet him. He hit pretty hard. McCoy was momentarily disoriented, but knew he had to kick for the surface as fast as he was able. Once he was back on top of the water, he scanned the surface for Sulu. The Helmsman was struggling only about thirty feet away.

"Sulu! Hang on, I'm coming!" He started out in that direction. Either Sulu didn't hear him, or was too focused on staying afloat to respond. The thirty feet closed quickly. McCoy arrived. Confident the jacket would hold them both, he scooped Sulu up and pushed the Helmsman's head firmly over his shoulder. There was no more going under on his watch. To McCoy's surprise, Sulu held on for all he was worth.

"Sulu. Talk to me. Are you all right?"

"Mhmm. Peachy. Thanks, Doc."

_One-word responses, clinging on like a drowned cat, something's off here._ McCoy ran through the possibilities in his mind. _It wasn't a far enough fall to give him any sort of head injury. Jim would've been more concerned as well, if Sulu landed wrong. No, he's a trained officer. I'd bet money that he hit the water safely. Then… what happened? Sulu always swims fine on the ship. He can pretty much swim circles around the rest of the navigators. So, what's different here?_

McCoy pulled an arm off the Lieutenant's back. Sulu stiffened. _Ok… Pulse check it is then._ He stuck his had around and felt for the point on Sulu's neck.

"I s-said I'm fine, Doc. Just a little shaken up after… you know… falling off a boat?"

"Lieutenant, that was weak and you know it. Now, when we get back onboard, I can tell Jim one of two things…" He paused, making sure the ship was well on its way to rescuing them. "I can tell him that I overreacted, and jumped ship when you were perfectly fine, or…" Sulu turned his head. The panic in his eyes was plain. McCoy was taken aback.

"I'm afraid of deep water, Doc. Terrified."

McCoy nodded. It made sense. Sulu was never afraid of anything. Where could he possibly encounter deep water in the soul-sucking darkness of space?

_Apparently, on Marecis. _

"Oh. Well…"

"You can't tell the Captain, Doc." Sulu's face, pale before, had gone paler. "I'm invoking Doctor-patient confidentiality. You can't tell anybody."

McCoy shut his mouth, lest a sarcastic comment about 'invoking Doctor-patient confidentiality' let fly. Sulu kept staring at him, expecting a solemn oath, or something of the kind. He sighed.

"It's safe with me, Sulu. But, I think you should tell somebody, eventually. Maybe not now," He interrupted Sulu's attempted interruption, "But next time it's relevant. If we're beaming down to a waterlogged rock like this one, let somebody know."

"Alright, Doc. I'll do it." He glanced back at the ship, which was now heading their way.

"Here" McCoy pushed Sulu back, still holding him up with one arm. He undid the clasps on his lifejacket and pulled it off. He pushed it Sulu's way, holding onto one arm then the other while the Lieutenant tightened the jacket straps.

"That way, I can swim for the life preserver and you'll be fine on your own for a second."

Sulu nodded, still clutching at the Doctor's arm. "Ok. I'll be fine. Just don't be long." He cracked a smile. "I'm still scared out of my wits here, Doc."

McCoy chuckled. "I know. I feel the same way about shuttlecraft. It's best to just pretend you're as far away as possible from where you are. I usually just imagine we're still on the ground, and turbulence is just the wind preventing us from takeoff."

"That's kind of elaborate."

"Whatever works. In your case, I'd say we're back at The Bay, Golden Gate Bridge is right behind you. Maybe we went parasailing, and we're waiting for the pickup. Water's about twelve feet deep."

Sulu actually laughed. "You, parasailing? That's a bit too far fetched, Doc."

"You're right. Maybe Jim'd go, if we got shore leave."

There was a shout from above. The cruise ship had pulled up alongside their position. McCoy waved, and several observing crewmembers waved back. Somebody stepped up with a life preserver. McCoy broke off from Sulu and waited to catch it.

Then, everything was blurry. It was wet, and then it was dark. And then, it was cold. Windy. He blinked away the fog at last. It was too bright. He was lying on the deck. Jim's worried face hovered over him. Sulu, still wearing the life preserver, was at his side.

"Bones?"

"What. The heck. Jim." He sat up, rubbing his sore forehead. _When did that happen?_ "What did I miss? Sulu, are you ok?"

"We should be asking you that, Doc." Sulu deadpanned. _So he hadn't told Jim anything. Yet._

"Yeah. You didn't catch the life preserver, Bones. It clocked you. Klutz. Sulu had to drag your clumsy hide out of the water, swim for the preserver, and then drag you over the railing." Jim clapped Sulu on the shoulder. "Always the cool-headed ninja. That's my Helmsman." Jim helped McCoy to his feet. The deck didn't start spinning, which he supposed was a good sign. Jim waved off the crowd of onlookers. Sulu stepped up to McCoy's side.

"Do I need to walk you to the Nurse's Station?" he asked loudly, before whispering, "Please say yes. I'm shaking so hard, I'm surprised the Captain didn't feel his hand buzz."

McCoy snorted. "Like Jim's not already hyperactive. He probably thought your frequency was too low, the jumped-up mess... Yeah. Let's head over. I think we could both use some dry clothes."

In the end, Jim had a good laugh at his expense. Sulu had saved face in front of the crew, for saving him from his own stupidity. They got a change of clothes, and after 'making extra sure the Doctor was all right' enjoyed the rest of the cruise. McCoy didn't mind being on the receiving end of wry looks and giggles for the rest of the day. If anything, it cemented the opinion he'd already formed.

He knew it didn't matter that Sulu wasn't fearless. It mattered more than anything that Sulu was _brave_.

**A/N: 'Gosh, I Love Sulu'. I'm about to hit the ground running with some more chapters. Classes start back up on the 20th, so I have some time on my hands. ;) Thanks for reading! I really appreciate all y'all.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Can anyone say 'Three parter'?**

He knew Christine Chapel was actually considering returning to Enterprise, but he'd kept it a secret.

Jim knew. He'd fielded the transfer request first. Starbase 371 had been ecstatic to receive Nurse Chapel. Their hospital had certainly been improved. She had been happy, at first. The paperwork Jim had received outlined the political reasons Starfleet had given for Chapel's return. Apparently, she was the best of the best. They wanted her to finish out a five-year-mission, and then come train new nurses at the Academy.

McCoy had been all for it. When Jim brought up the topic in confidence, he'd given his support. Unfortunately, as he'd soon find out, there was a catch: If Chapel was to come back aboard, one of their other senior medical personnel would have to leave. And this was a non-negotiable for the Admiralty. McCoy had actually thrown a PADD. Everything just _had _to be complicated.

So he hadn't told. Who knew how his people would react? And what kind of boss would that make him, putting somebody on the chopping block so one of his known favorites could get a leg up? It was grossly unfair, on all accounts.

Either way, Jim was going to have to make the final decision. McCoy would be consulted, of course. His professional opinion would be taken into consideration. Odds were if he said no, it wouldn't be done. But if he said yes…

They had a week to sort it out. The _Enterprise's_ latest assignment had them hop-skipping it over to- guess where- Starbase 371 to drop off a certain advanced weapons expert. Turns out, forging paperwork doesn't always get you far, regardless of how justified the cause is. But, Starbase 371 was home to some _very_ interesting weaponry. Aside from being the second largest hospital base in the quadrant, 371 had an extensive collection of unclassified alien weaponry. The study going on there was 'fascinating' according to one Science Officer.

Either way, the _Enterprise_ would arrive in a week. Whether one crewmember or two departed was a decision that needed to be made.

Monday evening and no decision. McCoy had met his Captain at the pool. They'd done twenty laps and decided not to discuss it.

Tuesday, they hadn't even seen each other.

Wednesday, they'd only spoken in the line of duty. Chekov had passed out on the bridge. McCoy had run up, diagnosed the little moron with the flu, and had given Jim a report later on.

Thursday in the rec room again. Jim was toweling off after a hop in the pool. His duel with Sulu had been brutal. Both met had left the floor drenched in sweat, but satisfied with an interesting match. McCoy tossed Jim his foil. The Captain caught it easily.

"What's happening, Bones? Going for a swim? I'd join you, but Sulu just handed me my butt on a silver platter. I'm beat."

McCoy snorted. "Thank you for that mental image. No, actually, I'm here to talk to you about the transfer. Thought I'd stop and talk it over after my run."

Jim's face fell. "What're the chances you haven't jogged yet?"

The Doctor, clad in damp sweats, raised an eyebrow.

"Right. At least let me grab my shirt."

Still in trunks and tracksuits, the two men headed off to the nearest conference room. Next door, Jim had punched in the code, claimed about five chairs with his gear, and proceeded to throw himself at the floor.

"Go ahead, Bones. I'm listening. Just taking a stretch break, that's all."

McCoy fell into a spare chair, ignoring his pretzel-ized Captain. "Well, I wanted to hear your opinion, Jim. In the end, it's your call. What's your take on this whole thing?" After a pause, he added, "How would you feel?"

There was a grunt and Jim hopped up off the floor. He snatched up his towel and aggressively dried his hair. From under the fabric, he gave his two cents.

"It's your call. And don't say I'm just shunting this off to you, Bones. It's your department. You're the expert."

McCoy sat back. "Aright. Then my answer's no."

"No?" Jim pushed the towel up and scrunched his eyebrows. "But you love Chapel Bones. She was your favorite."

"That doesn't change a thing. Sure, I'd like her back, but that isn't fair to anybody here. Right now, we have the highest efficiency in the fleet. Could that drop with Chapel here? Probably not. But, say, I don't know –M'Benga- say M'Benga had to leave. Well, there goes our Vulcan biologist. I know, not technically, but he's got the most experience in that department. What do we do if Spock nearly bites it again, and it's Chapel not M'Benga? What if we have to trade Morris? Where's our brain surgeon then? Page is out? I hope nobody develops a blood condition. You see my point, Jim? As much as I'd like to have Chapel onboard, there's really not a position we can just swap out?"

Jim considered. He was silent for a long time.

"And Stacey?"

"No, Jim. I can't do that. He's just as good as Chapel was, at least. Sure, she was no-nonsense and Stacey's kind of a pushover, but that doesn't affect his performance or work ethic. All in all, I can't find a justifiable reason to transfer Chapel, as much as I personally want to."

The room went quiet again. Jim paced back and forth, obviously weighing McCoy's words. It _was_ his call, in the end. He'd have to be sure because he'd have to be the one to say no.

"Alright. I'll tell Nurse Chapel, and the Admiralty, that we're sorry, but the transfer wouldn't be practical at this time." Jim started packing up his gear, not yet looking at McCoy. _That's… Ok, not unusual, but Jim's thinking more than he's saying. _The Doctor stood. He approached the other side of the table.

"Jim? And your opinion? Come on, I can hear more than the rocks rattling around in that thick skull of yours. What's eating you?"

Jim shoved a sock into his bag with some force.

"Honestly, Bones? I wish things didn't have to be this complicated. Simple as that."

McCoy nodded. "Me too, Jim. Thanks for talking."

By Friday, they had the paperwork finalized. Nobody on the ship knew a thing about it. As far as everyone was concerned, they were saying goodbye to a fortunate stowaway, nothing more. Carol Marcus would be missed, but that was the only news.

Saturday, they were within communications range of Starbase 371. Jim decided not to say anything then, either.

It was the big day. They were four hours out. Pretty much everyone had said their goodbyes, all who were saying them, at least. McCoy'd had another talk with his Captain.

"Any reason you haven't sent off the paperwork?"

Jim looked him in the eye. "I haven't done it yet, because I'm not going to. Nurse Chapel deserves to hear my explanation in person. The documents are going to the Admiralty, but I'm going to tell Chapel myself. That way…" Jim broke eye contact, instead gazing at the floor. "That way, we'll be perfectly clear. No more misunderstandings. She deserves that much."

He had originally questioned Jim's reasoning, but now he understood. It would hurt, he realized, to receive the cold, digital document without a word. _What would Christine have thought? There could be a million different ways the rejection might be interpreted. _McCoy decided that this was the best way. It was the most honest, considerate thing Jim could do in this situation. They really couldn't take Chapel on, as much as they'd wanted to. This way, at least everybody'd be clear on the reasons.

McCoy was happy that Jim had chosen to do it this way. He knew, regardless of the Captain's personal feelings, Jim would always do what was right for his ship. Sometimes, more importantly, Jim would go the extra mile and do what was right for a crewmember, personally.

Jim was a darned good Captain, that way.

**A/N: Part Two of Three, coming later this week. Just what will Chapel do? What will the Admiralty think of this? **_**Will Jim ever get to work out in peace?**_

**Find out next time! Thanks for reading!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Chapter 15! The first chapter of 2015! What a coincidence! Yay!**

He knew that Jim played his cards close to his chest.

The Captain didn't always tell people what he was thinking, not really. He'd put on the command air, or the cocky-farm-boy smile, but rarely would Jim let the world in on his ideas.

That must be why this was so awkward.

Jim was telling Carol goodbye. Word of her arrival had spread, and she was badly wanted at the labs. She was heading off to the weapons deposit, and Jim was going to give Nurse Chapel his decision. McCoy decided that this wasn't his place. Jim didn't do stuff like this, not often. He thought it would be best to let his friend have some space.

M'Benga and Stacey were loitering around in the transporter room, waiting for him. McCoy cleared this throat, crossed his arms, and got their attention.

"Do y'all want to stand there all day, or are we gonna tour the facility?"

One of the base nurses was waiting at the door to the hospital wing. They were directed around to the biology labs, operating suites, and the general hospital sector. Starbase 371 had remarkable facilities. McCoy hated to admit it, but he was a bit jealous of what they had going on here. Their bioreseachers were among the best in the galaxy, and their labs had M'Benga staring. The prosthetics lab full of state-of-the-art circuitry and equipment fascinated Stacey. All in all, it was one of the most impressive things McCoy had ever seen.

That is, until the wall beside him exploded.

M'Benga was thrown into a shelf and Stacey collided with their guide. Alarms blared. McCoy pushed himself up off the floor. There was smoke in the air and broken glass on the ground. Stacey was helping the other nurse up off the floor. McCoy went to M'Benga's side, trying to help the other doctor. M'Benga pushed his hand away, standing on his own power.

Suddenly, the whole room pitched to the side. McCoy lost his footing as the artificial gravity decided to fail. He was sliding backwards along the length of the room. A hand latched onto his arm, stopping him. McCoy jerked backward. He saw another nurse sliding and reached for her. At first, he thought he wasn't going to make it, and then the hand left his arm. McCoy fell for only a moment- the hand snatched the back of his tunic for extended reach- and caught the other nurse. He turned, surprised, to find Nurse Stacey holding them both up. Stacey had one hand wrapped in the back of McCoy's shirt, and the other clinging to the side of a doorway.

The gravity began righting itself. McCoy hit the floor instead of the opposite wall. He released the nurse, who shot off toward the operating suite. She had a job to do, and so did they.

"What the heck is going on around here?"

Stacey stood, offering McCoy a hand up. "I have no idea, Boss. Felt like a big hit. If it disabled the gravity, perhaps it was. We should get M'Benga and find the Captain."

"Good plan. Now, where'd Geoff get to?"

The answer to their question came stomping around the corner. M'Benga looked pissed, to put it mildly. He was covered in the contents of several of the vials that had spilled when he crashed into the cabinet. M'Benga was glaring at them, waiting for somebody to own up to the gravity shift. McCoy noticed the balled fists and white knuckles. _Maybe everything's not so peachy after all…_

He didn't have time to pose another question. The base rocked again, and this time, chunks of the ceiling started falling. He pulled his coworkers back as the lights dropped. McCoy's heel hit something and he lost his balance. Luckily, the wall was right there behind him. He looked down at the floor. He'd tripped over a ventilation grate. _That could've been bad…_

M'Benga broke McCoy's grip on his collar. Before that particular situation could escalate, a metal beam punched through the ceiling and speared the floor between McCoy's feet. Stacey yanked him to the side. The metal creaked. _Thump_. The floor shuddered once. _Wait, _McCoy remembered, _The ventilation system…_

"No! Stacey, get back! It's gonna-"

The metal squealed again and the floor dropped. McCoy slid down, trying to keep his feet. Both of Stacey's hands grabbed one of his, but it was too late. The gravity shifted again and they found themselves falling into an open airshaft.

The dust was still settling when he came to his senses. It was pitch dark, save for a few emergency lights peeking out of the local vents. He looked around, finding nothing but debris for several seconds.

"Stacey? M'Benga? Anybody else down here?"

Somebody coughed off to his left.

"Aah… That was a surprise… Boss? Are you all right?"

McCoy sighed with relief. "Yeah, I'm good. I think. Can't quite get my legs free. Can you move?"

There was a shuffling sound. McCoy saw Stacey's shadow stand amongst the metal. He seemed to shake his hear clear, take a step, and then slip on something. Stacey regained his footing and picked his way over to McCoy. The base rumbled again. Whatever was happening outside wasn't going to stop for them.

"Over here! Yeah, I think I'm stuck under some of the floor… Or the ceiling. Did you see M'Benga before we fell?"

Stacey crouched next to his boss. "I did not see him. I tired to pull you off the vent and then we both fell. Here, this is the main piece." After discovering the problematic piece of debris, they found that their combined efforts wouldn't budge it.

McCoy fell back to the floor. "Great. It's gonna be some time before anybody can get to us. What between the whole blasted base falling apart and the casualties they've already got… Was that you coughing earlier?"

Stacey's shadow bobbed. "Yeah. My ribs are pretty sore. I think I fell wrong and landed wrong. It's just not our day today, eh Boss?"

McCoy snorted, but stopped before adding his two cents. Something else shifted in the darkness.

"Hello? M'Benga, is that you?" He called. Stacey started to stand. A piece of metal screeched. They could hear labored breathing. There was definitely someone else with them.

McCoy tried sitting up again. "No, you relax, Boss. I'll go check on them." Stacey held a hand out and tried to navigate the bottom of the shaft. There was a clatter as he arrived at the source of the sound. McCoy could hear him talking to whoever it was.

"It's all right. I'm here to help. Are you injured? I can't see that well. Tell me what hurts."

The reassuring speech was cut off with a cry. McCoy could only watch as a second shadow shot out of the wreckage and went for Stacey's throat. He struggled to get free of the debris so he could go help, but he was stuck tight. Suddenly, the shadows went down. One combatant had the upper hand on the other. After a moment, it was over. The sounds of the struggle were replaced by a soft wheezing. McCoy didn't know what to think. He couldn't tell who had won.

"Stacey?" He ventured, hoping it was his Head Nurse who turned and began approaching. The figure loomed over him. Suddenly, it dropped down next to him, crossing its legs and sitting.

"That… did not go so well." Stacey gasped.

"Blast it, man! You scared me half to death! Who was that?"

"I don't know. He certainly wasn't very friendly. Went straight for the kill. I was quite surprised."

McCoy shifted uneasily. He didn't know what made him more uncomfortable- the fact that they were trapped down here while goodness knows what was going on outside, or that they were trapped in here with a potential killer.

"So… How'd you get him off? What's his condition?" McCoy asked Stacey's shadow.

"Huh. I broke his grip- like they tell you to in self-defense classes- and then I just turned him around and got the proper hold. He was out like a light. Shouldn't be any permanent damage done. Why do you ask, Boss?"

McCoy licked his lips nervously. "Because I'm worried about what we're gonna do when he wakes up."

"Oh."

He assessed the situation. From the sound of Stacey's breathing, the nurse wasn't likely to come out as lucky if there was a Round 2. McCoy tried freeing his legs, but the gap in the metal was too narrow to squeeze his hips through. On top of that, there was a bar or something pinning his knee.

Stacey must've heard him squirming around. "Do you need a hand? Are you uncomfortable? Losing feeling in your legs?"

"No," McCoy waved him off, "Nothing like that, just frustrated. I can feel all my toes an' everything, it's just making me uneasy, being trapped like rats with whoever that guy is down here too."

"Well, think of it this way: We're pretty lucky we fell down this particular shaft. Medbay is a heavily trafficked area, especially with casualties coming in. I bet someone saw us go down. There should be a rescue team on their way at any time."

McCoy hoped that Stacey was right. They passed the time in silence for a while, McCoy fidgeting and Stacey focusing on his breathing. Whatever was causing the base to shake was decreasing its frequency. After some time, the tremors stopped altogether.

"What do you think it was?" Stacey asked eventually.

"Hard to say. Could've been trouble in any one of the gravitational nodes. Maybe that's why things went sideways before they went to pot."

"True. Could've been angry Klingons, too."

"Yeah, right. Maybe that's who we've got down here- an angry Klingon."

Before either of them could settle back into the silence, something started to tap. It was further off at first, but the tapping was rapidly approaching, from what direction, they couldn't tell. Suddenly it became clear. McCoy turned his head to look at the wall behind him

"Somebody's in there. In the tubes. They're coming this way."

Sure enough, the tapping grew louder. Finally, McCoy could distinguish footsteps. Somebody knocked on the wall.

"We're in here!" McCoy shouted. His voice rebounded off the walls, but apparently the message got through. There was some indistinct response, and then a tiny spot on the wall began to glow.

"They're cutting through. We'll be out of here in no time!" Stacey stood so he could be ready to assist their rescuers. McCoy heard a sudden clanging, and then Stacey's shadow was gone.

The attacker was back. He could hear the fight going on a few feet away. His hollering and all the movement must've tipped the guy off to their location. Now, Stacey was in another fight for his life. _If only he can hold on until they get through the wall…_ No doubt, there'd be Security people on hand to help shift debris. One of them was bound to have a phaser. It was standard procedure.

McCoy decided he'd help things along any way he could.

"HELP! Hurry up! We're in big trouble! There's an emergency!" He was torn between stirring the rescue team into a rush and distracting Stacey from his self-defense.

He glanced back at the wall. The glowing ring had been completed. The door fell in to make way for a burst of light. He could see more clearly. His nurse was grappling with another figure in blue, that much McCoy could see. A shadow blocked the light and leveled a phaser at the struggling pair.

"Ed! Roll!"

Stacey heeded the warning. He got his knees up under his attacker and shoved him off. The Head Nurse rolled, leaving the assailant wide open for a heavy stun.

"G!" Stacey called when he caught his breath. Security Chief Hendorff was already making his way over. "Am I glad to see you. Don't worry about me; I'm sure they can get me patched up later. The Boss is trapped over there- under a bunch of metal. Couldn't move him. He needs a hand more than I do."

Cupcake picked his way through the carnage until he found McCoy.

"Took you long enough. What, had to stop for snacks on the way?"

Hendorff snorted. "No. Just had to fight off some stubborn Romulans. No big deal. The Captain sent me to give a 'heads-up' to the Head Doctor here when I saw you three fall. I told the nearest nurse where I was going. They'll have a team down here as soon as they can."

"Romulans?" McCoy was taken aback. "D'you hear that, Stacey? You weren't so far off after all!"

"Boss…"

McCoy's grin faded. Something was up. "What is it? What's wrong? Hendorff, I'm fine. Get over there and help."

The Security Chief sighed and retreated back towards the 'doorway'.

"What's wrong, Ed? Medical will be here any minute if that's your… Oh. I thought…"

"What? Will you two quit standin' around slack-jawed and tell me what's goin' on?"

"It's M'Benga, Boss. It's been M'Benga this whole time."

He froze. _M'Benga. M'Benga attacked Stacey… This doesn't make any sense! He had no reason to… He didn't say anything, didn't try and see who we were at all. _McCoy remembered the bioresearch lab, the shelf full of vials, and all that broken glass. _Oh no._

"It's the chemicals!" He called across the room. "It's those chemicals what spilled on 'im during the first big shake. He probably cut himself up good and got that stuff mixed in his system. I bet it's wreaking havoc."

"We need to get him up to the Medbay, quickly." Stacey asserted. "G, you have to take him up there. Give me your phaser. I'll cut the Boss out."

Hendorff shifted his weight. "You sure, Ed? Neither of you are looking good."

"It's alright, Hendorff." McCoy joined the conversation again. "If I determine Stacey isn't up to it, I can cut myself free. You said the team upstairs knows about us? We can make it until they get here, but M'Benga needs attention."

The Security Chief sighed. He tossed his phaser to Stacey before stooping to get M'Benga. "I don't like it, Ed. Be careful, both of you." Hendorff nodded farewell before disappearing with the downed doctor. Stacey made his way to McCoy's side.

"You'll be out in no time, Boss. Now, where are your legs? I don't want to deep-fry you."

It didn't take too long to get McCoy free, but while he had a second to sit back and think, something occurred to him. _It's a good thing Cupcake was here when everything went to pot. I'm glad Jim sent him to warn- To warn. Cupcake said 'give the Head Doctor a 'heads-up'. A heads-up for what? Did Jim know about the Romulans? And he didn't tell anyone?_

Stacey had barely finished chopping the last piece when McCoy shot up off the ground. Of course, both of his legs were stiff from being still for so long. Stacey caught him before the pins and needles could send him to the floor again.

"Easy, Boss! What are you thinking?"

McCoy, still unsteady on his feet, shifted his weight and threw an arm over Stacey's shoulder.

"Get me upstairs. _Now. _I've got a couple of burning questions for our Captain."

Sometimes he hated it when he was right. Jim played things _too close _to the chest.

**A/N: "Uh oh. You better start running" - Hendorff to Jim, probably.**

**Thanks for reading! Happy New Year! Part Three coming soon.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Part Three of three! Thanks to HeartofFyrwinde for helping me get through a rough patch of writer's block!**

He knew that Starfleet's medical personnel were the best in the business.

That being said, he was still surprised when he found the Medbay almost empty.

Somewhere in the bowels of the base, McCoy had ended up supporting Stacey's weight instead of the other way around. The Head Nurse had started coughing more frequently. This was worrying. Eventually, they'd found their way to a turbolift. Medbay was just a stagger, limp, and a carry away.

It actually took him a minute to flag down a nurse. Oddly enough, it was the woman they'd rescued earlier. She scared up an anti-grav gurney and had Stacey whisked off in an instant. Not a minute later, a familiar figure in scrubs came running from the operating suites.

"Len!"

"Christine?"

McCoy found himself the victim of a massive bear hug. As excited as he was to see his old coworker, he was still a man on a mission. All things considered, he _would_ have to exchange the usual pleasantries before throttling Jim.

"How've you been, Chris? Deep space treating you all right?"

Chapel smiled broadly. "It's been fun, but I miss the explorer's life. How goes it for you?"

McCoy snorted. "Still trying to keep everyone from falling to pieces. Except Jim. I'm on my way to kill him right now. Wanna give me a hand?"

"What did he do this time?" Christine gave him a wry grin.

"Oh, nothin' too much, just neglected to mention that we were expecting company here." He tried to keep the steel out of his voice, he really did, but the edge was there. McCoy was ticked off, plain and simple. Chapel frowned.

"He did _what?_"

"You heard me. Ended up falling down an airshaft after the floor collapsed. And now, two of my senior staff are in your Medbay. I just sent Stacey through- you remember Ed, the prosthetics specialist, he's my new Head Nurse. M'Benga's in here too, somewhere. Have you heard anything?"

Chapel shook her head. "I just came from the Base Director's office. Captain Kirk was in there with Carol Marcus. Director Yansey wanted a casualty report. We didn't have anything more than a sprained wrist… Until now I guess. Better go amend that report, huh?" She looked down at the floor, a little disappointed, a little angry. McCoy felt some of his rage dissipate. He didn't want to take it out on anyone except Jim.

"Here, I'll come with you and explain to Yansey what happened. I'm sorry for blowing up at you, Chris."

She surprised him by whipping her head back up and glaring. "You have every right to be angry! Len, I'd be furious if I was in your place. I don't know what Captain Kirk was thinking…" She paused for a second. Something occurred to her. "You said you fell down an airshaft? _Len!_ You're the one who needs to report in! If you don't _at least_ let me check you out before you head off, I will personally knock you out and haul your sorry carcass to a biobed!"

McCoy flinched back. "I was a bad influence on you, Chris."

"No," she countered, "You were the best teacher I ever had! How do you think I get these half-wits to report to me at all?" Chapel spun him around and began marching him back into the Medbay. "I rule this hospital with an iron fist and a loaded hypospray, don't you have any doubt!"

"Believe me, Nurse- I don't!"

She and her tricorder did a thorough job. McCoy had been lucky. However it had happened, he made it with hardly a scratch. All he had needed was a bandage for his head, and even that only because he wasn't willing to wait around for the dermal regenerator. Chapel eyed him warily before okay-ing their trip to the Director's office. McCoy was busy working up his righteous anger again. While they were still in Medbay, another nurse had come up to give Chapel a status report on the new casualties. The good news was that Stacey was fine. They expected him to make a full recovery.

The bad news was, M'Benga wasn't. Well, not exactly. The hospital staff was still actively running tests, visiting the broken shelf and taking samples, and running tox screen after tox screen. M'Benga was going to make it, but they still hadn't isolated the problem to develop a cure.

That _really_ had McCoy in a state. He stormed down the hallways, barely willing to pause so Chapel could show him the way. As soon as he'd identified the right door, there was no slowing him down. Jim was there, Carol too, and it looked like they were in the middle of a meeting. McCoy didn't care.

"Now, since we've captured the last of the intruders we- _Bones! _H- Bones, what happened?" His face went from surprised, to confused, to worried in the space of a second. Ignoring both Chapel and the terrifying look on his CMO's face, Jim ran right up to them. "Did you get thrown in the gravity shift?" He had the audacity to glare at Nurse Chapel. "The hospital staff was supposed to have everyone secured."

"No, Jim," McCoy did his best to keep from shouting. "I fell down an airshaft. When the base suddenly started exploding. Which was completely unexpected. Care to explain that?" He watched the surprise grow on Jim's face before carrying on. "Also, would you care to explain why _none_ of the visiting medical staff were informed of this attack? Something _everyone else_ seemed to know about? Information that would have been _very useful_ in avoiding two explosions, a twenty-foot fall into a pile of metal debris, and the hospitalization of two of my best men, only _one of which _is currently recovering. I'd like an explanation for _that, _Jim!"

Chapel put a restraining hand on his arm, but he ignored it. He was beyond furious. Jim stared back at him in shock. The whole room had fallen silent. There was only the ringing in his ears and the sound of his own heavy breathing.

"I think you need to sit down, Bones." Jim recommended softly.

"You have the nerve to tell me-"

"No, Len, you should sit. You just started bleeding again."

He hated to admit it, by Chapel appeared to be right. The second he checked, McCoy could feel the warm spot again on the side of his head.

"Fine. _Fine!_ I'll sit down!" He conceded. "But you!" He shoved a finger in Jim's face. "You still owe me an explanation."

The Captain threw a glance over his shoulder at the Base Director as if to say 'I'll handle this' before joining McCoy in the office chairs along the wall.

"I'm sorry, Bones." He began. McCoy was calming down, trying to keep an open mind for whatever reason Jim had for not telling him about the attack. _Surely he has a reason. _McCoy thought. _There's got to be something. I know Jim's pig-headed, secretive, and stupid, but he's not that pig-headed, secretive, and stupid. Not stupid enough to allow unnecessary casualties. He loves his crew. It's probably eating him up inside, right now. Good. The little punk deserves it. Regardless whether or not it's a good reason, I'll still give him grief._

Jim continued. "They were already inside the base." McCoy's eyebrows shot up. That wasn't the answer he was expecting. "The Romulans," he went on, "They'd already infiltrated parts of the base. Apparently, a warbird was cloaked at the back door when we arrived. I had to improvise. I was outlining the new plan to Carol when you split, and I didn't have time to go after you, so I sent Hendorff as soon as he could leave. I guess I waited too long." It was here that McCoy started regretting his tirade. He could see the news tearing Jim up. "If it makes you feel any better, which it probably won't, we got the Romulans good. We blew the weapons depository first thing. That's what caused the gravity shift. But, yeah. Captured every single invader before the warbird took off at warp 8."

He kinda slumped at the end of his speech, and left McCoy feeling like he'd just kicked a puppy.

"I understand why, Jim. I admit to overreacting, but you should have told me earlier. No sense waiting for the eleventh hour and getting a wrench thrown into things too late."

Jim sighed. "Alright. But, before we do anything else, how are Stacey and M'Benga?" He turned to Chapel. "Tell me everything."

McCoy got the cue to sit back and let the Nurse explain. Jim's face went through a full cycle of emotions before settling on displeased acceptance. When Chapel finished, Jim nodded once. He stood. He resumed his conversation with Base Director Yansey. He finished. Carol reclaimed his attention for another few minutes. Before McCoy was aware that a considerable length of time had passed, Jim was back at his side.

"Come on, Bones. Let's go see Ed. I bet he's enjoying himself in those shiny new labs by now. Bones?"

McCoy looked up, blinking. "Yeah?"

Jim pursed his lips and turned to Chapel. "Is he alright?"

The Nurse picked up her tricorder and gave McCoy a scan. "Well, he seems to be fine. Could just be ignoring you. Sounds like something he'd try."

"I think we should take him back to Sickbay for observation."

"You know 'he' is right here and has his own opinion." McCoy glowered at the both of them.

"You're a lot less menacing with that headband, Bones. Let's go see Stacey."

In the end, Stacey was all right. A couple passes with the bone knitter, and he was good to go. They'd actually found him chatting it up with the techs in the prosthetics lab. McCoy knew Stacey was a nurse first, but he supposed anything could happen in space.

They asked after M'Benga and received good news. The bioresearchers kept good books and knew exactly what was on that shelf. After measuring samples and examining tox reports, they'd been able to isolate and treat the volatile chemical mixture in M'Benga's bloodstream. The doctor was going to make it, but there were some drawbacks. Some of the compounds had been rough with his kidneys, and he had required repairing surgery. All of the base doctors agreed M'Benga should be kept for observation.

Unfortunately, the _Enterprise_ didn't have time to delay. Starfleet wanted the ship to head to New Vulcan with a delegation of ambassadors and precious cargo. They were leaving M'Benga behind, doctor's orders.

McCoy, of course, was upset. He argued his side and approached the problem from every angle. There wasn't really a great counter-argument for 'one of the chemicals he was exposed to is experimental and unique to this base'. M'Benga himself had talked McCoy down. In the end, they'd reached a suitable agreement: M'Benga would _officially_ transfer to Starbase 371 as a cell biologist and Vulcan specialist. McCoy was sad to see him go, but they decided against a permanent posting, just in case.

"I'm gonna miss having you around, Geoff. Who's gonna boss the hobgoblin around when you're gone?"

M'Benga smiled at him from the biobed. "I guess you'll have to ask your new bioresearch specialist to do the job. I hear she 'rules with an iron fist'."

"Yeah, and a loaded hypospray. Spock's on his own, I have my own back to watch."

He shook hands with M'Benga and left before things got too depressing. Jim was waiting out on the main floor with Nurses Chapel and Stacey, as well as Carol Marcus.

"I guess this is goodbye for you too, Carol. It's been nice working wi-… All right, I saw that. What's with the looks?" He turned to Jim, and then Chapel. Both were grinning like idiots.

"Starfleet had approved my request to conduct research on the _Enterprise." _Carol beamed at him. "As a civilian, of course. Now that the weapons deposit here has been destroyed, there's really no reason for me to stay."

Jim took over the explanation. "We talked it over with Admiral Archer this morning. Can you believe he's still around? I know… But, he's in charge of this sort of thing after San Francisco… So, Carol's got a two-year contract for weapons development. The Admiralty's just itching to get the kind of defenses the _Vengeance_ had, what with the political tensions escalating in the Beta Quadrant…" He trailed off, shrugging. "We got two for one, I guess."

McCoy snorted. "Yeah, well, now I have I new Nurse to train. Worse, she's experienced, with her own ideas on how things should be run. I'll be lucky if I can get her to cooperate at all!"

"Hey! 'She' is right here, you hypocrite. But, don't worry about a thing, _Boss_," Chapel winked at Stacey, "We've got nearly five years to sort it out."

And then, he knew everything was going to work out. It always did. As bad as things got, they'd make it. Together.

McCoy knew he was lucky to be part of the best crew in business.

**A/N: Thanks for reading!**

**I really enjoy the feedback I'm getting from y'all. If there's ever anything you think I could improve upon, don't hesitate to tell me! I'm paranoid about those little things like style, flow, and plot. If it's too predictable? Let me know! Overly melodramatic? I'd love to hear about it! Needs more Cupcake? I'm ****_on it._**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: It was very satisfying to see '26,000 words' after posting chapter 16. I even took a screenshot. Seriously, when does that happen? Anyway. Here's a new chapter. Enjoy!**

He knew the _Enterprise _could dish it out.

Although, it was unnerving to have their shuttle, the _Curie_, captured midway back to the ship. The rendezvous with the xenobiologists from Bani III had gone swimmingly. Nobody had realized that they were surrounded by Orion pirate ships until they were already caught in the lead ship's tractor beam.

McCoy, Lieutenant Uhura, and the ship's xenobiology team were captured with hardly a fuss. The shuttle had been drawn into the Orion cargo bay in a matter of moments. Melting the shuttle door off didn't cause a hindrance either. The crew was lead away at gunpoint. And the pirates didn't waste any time with questioning, either- the shuttle's compliment was bound, gagged, and tossed into a holding cell.

Even with the all that hurry, it wasn't ten minutes before it all fell apart. McCoy would swear to the time, too. Ten minutes from lockup, the whole ship started shaking. The _Curie's_ complement found themselves sliding. Fifteen minutes- total- was all it took. Fifteen minutes, or his middle name wasn't 'Horatio'.

The force field on the cell had failed spectacularly. After the glow had fully faded, the doorway was overcrowded with redshirts. For every hostage, there were at least two crewmen in the rescue squad. CSO Hendorff led the way, but was quickly passed up by one James T Kirk. The Captain pulled McCoy to his feet, turning him loose before addressing the security team.

"All right, everyone. You have your pairs. Let's get everyone out of here. Hendorff- call it."

Jim kept a hand on McCoy's arm as the CSO stepped forward to address his men.

"Kaiser and Allen, you lead the charge. All of you from the _Curie _should stay behind me. Lieutenant Uhura, are you good to contact the ship and give them our position?"

Uhura looked like she would rather take on some Orions than call the _Enterprise, _but she nodded and caught Hendorff's communicator. Kaiser and Allen regrouped at the cell door, and they were away. McCoy felt like he was running into a stadium with a football team. Everyone was together, keeping a measured pace but legging it all the same. They had their big guys on the outside, with the quarterback and special teams in the middle.

Arriving in the pirate ship's cargo bay was an experience. Most everything was shot to pieces. There was a thin field keeping the atmosphere in, but even that looked like it was about to give. With Jim still at his side, McCoy followed the crowd to a waiting shuttle. He could see Sulu through the window, looking angry as a bull and ready for takeoff. The hostages went through the door first, and then the Security team piled in. The Captain steered McCoy to the front, made sure everyone was secure, and then took his place in the co-pilot's chair.

"Punch it."

They were out of there so quick that McCoy was surprised there wasn't a sonic boom. Next to him, Uhura maintained contact with the ship. Cool as iced tea and absolutely collected. He could hear Spock on the other end- _hobgoblin must have the conn-_ giving landing instructions. From what he could gather, the _Enterprise_ had opened fire on the lead pirate ship, concentrating on the engines and shields. After they had finished knocking, the Security team had beamed into the cargo bay and started tearing up the place.

They were back in their own shuttle bay. The _Enterprise _was on red alert, but the klaxon seemed to be the only sound. Everyone was at their station, waiting. Nobody would make a move until the Curies were safe and sound.

McCoy removed his seatbelt. The Security men were helping the Curies to their feet. Jim and Sulu were right in front of him, waiting. McCoy fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm fine. Y'all can stop hovering, now, thanks."

"If you say so, Doc." Sulu backed off, heading off the _Curie_ so he could retake his position on the bridge.

Jim moved to retrieve the communicator from Uhura.

"Kirk to Spock."

"_Spock here. Your orders, Captain?"_

"Let 'em have it." He flipped the cover closed, handed it back to Uhura, and let her return to her station.

"Come on, Bones." Jim offered him a hand up. "We don't want to miss all the action."

McCoy accepted the help, glaring. "If it's all the same to you, I've had about enough 'action' for one day."

Jim sighed. "At least come with me to the Bridge. Let Sulu see you're really all right. He was worried."

Begrudgingly, McCoy accepted. One turbolift ride later, they were greeted with the customary 'Keptin on the Bridge!'. Spock was standing in front of the Captain's chair, hands folded behind his back and looking altogether pleased with himself. For a Vulcan, that is.

"Spock. What's happening?"

The First Officer turned, displaying the most smug, self-satisfied expression McCoy had ever seen him make.

"All eleven of the Orion vessels are crippled or destroyed, Captain. The lead ship is disabled, as are the larger Marauder-class ships and the Interceptor."

Kirk grinned. "Excellent work, people." He took his chair back from Spock. "Let's hail the lead ship and discuss their surrender in a minute. How's my ship?"

Sulu turned from his console, glancing at McCoy before giving his report. "Shields holding at 98 percent, Captain. We didn't take a single hit."

"And the phasers?"

"Standing by at full power, Keptin."

"We mopped the floor with them, sir." Sulu smirked.

Jim surveyed his Bridge crew. Uhura was standing by to hail the Orion ships, looking forward to having the tables turned. Everyone else was awaiting further orders.

"Lieutenant Uhura, open hailing frequencies." Jim smiled at McCoy, who had moved alongside the Captain's chair. "I can't wait to see the look on their captain's face."

Oh yes, the look would be priceless, but completely predictable. Sure, they were explorers, but beating the living daylights out of people was starting to become routine. _He_ knew it was a bad idea to mess around with the _Enterprise_. It was about time everyone else figured it out, too.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope y'all are enjoying this. I've got a couple other things on the back burner waiting for a few hours of quality key-pushing. Maybe some of that will see the light of day.**

**Have a wonderful day, everyone! :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Happy weekend! Going back to school in a few days, so here's an early update!**

He knew Keenser was actually fluent in Federation standard.

Of course, that didn't mean the little guy was a big talker. No, McCoy could count on one hand the number of words he'd heard Keenser say, in Standard or in any other language. Then again, he didn't spend much time around the engineer. Who knows? Keenser could be a regular chatty-Cathy when the doctor wasn't around.

Often times, the silent treatment was universal. Keenser would interact with others, of course, just nonverbally. He'd gesticulate just like any other person. Ordinary as could be. Sometimes, the silent treatment would be total, and this was usually reserved for Scotty alone. When Keenser was upset, in disagreement, or just being stubborn, he'd ignore the CE completely. No response at all.

McCoy admitted that it was pretty funny to watch. Scotty would react first with anger. He'd shout and squabble from the bowels of Engineering, all the way up to the mess hall. Once he'd shouted himself hoarse, Scotty would try his own feeble attempt at ignoring Keenser. The 'shoe on the other foot' treatment wouldn't last. Scotty would cave and enter his question phase. He'd badger Keenser to tell him what was wrong to the point where it was pathetic. The littler engineer would give in out of pity by then, Scotty's lesson obviously learned.

Like McCoy's mama always told him, people who talk only a little tend to think a whole lot.

He was pretty grateful for that unassuming brain.

The mining outpost on Vongeyo Prime had been experiencing difficulties with their probes, consistently running into the same failures across the board. As this was an important dilithium mine for the Federation, the _Enterprise _was instructed to solve the problem ASAP. Since there was a fair likelihood for injury anywhere that involved malfunctioning, high-powered laser drills, McCoy had actually _volunteered_ for this away mission.

Arriving on the surface, he found himself revising his opinion. It was _far more dangerous_ than he had suspected. The mining center itself was at the bottom of a shaft, with a single, outdated turbolift to facilitate travel. McCoy was proceeding underground with Scotty, Keenser, and Hendorff to investigate potential hazards in the so-far 'safe' equipment when they got a call from the center office. There were casualties. Apparently, it was bad.

Doctor McCoy was first off the lift, pushing past miners and supervisors to get to the main offices. He stormed inside. It was a fairly ordinary office, with potted plants and a secretary that he didn't have time for.

"Who's injured? Where?"

The secretary raised a hand, scowling, and pointed toward the back offices.

"Thanks." McCoy murmured as he sprinted for the doors. He could hear the front door opening. The rest of the away team must've arrived. _Well, the more help I have, the better. Just gotta find the guy, first._ After a certain point, he didn't need direction any more. There was an orderly little trail of blood to follow.

He threw open the last door in the hallway. He recognized the outpost director from the computer's files, and the injured man was easy to pick out.

It was just bad luck that they were tied back-to-back, held at phaser-point by a disgruntled looking pair of miners.

_Saboteurs. Of course._

The door slammed into the adjacent wall with a bang. Fortunately for him, the abrupt entrance startled everyone inside. He had a second. McCoy grabbed the doorknob and pulled it all back. He felt the metal door shudder at his back when the phaser blasts hit. There wasn't time to waste.

It was harder finding his way through the offices once the trail of blood petered back out. He knew there were at least three points in the hall where the path forked. It was also starting to worry him that he hadn't run into any more of the away team. _That secretary… Maybe he was in on it, too. I didn't like the look of that guy anyways. _

He rounded a sharp corner and nearly ran headlong into Keenser.

"Am I glad to see you! We've got to move, _now_!"

Keenser gave him a small nod before running ahead. McCoy wasn't too surprised by the Roylan's speed. Keenser would need to be pretty quick on his feet if he wanted to keep up with the hyperactive Scott on a regular basis. He could certainly leg it if the need arose.

McCoy threw a glance over his shoulder. _Crap._ The saboteurs had nearly caught up with them. The whine of phaser fire suddenly filled the air, and McCoy found himself running zigzags.

He put a hand out to the wall to guide his next sharp turn. As soon as he'd passed out of sight of his pursuers, something snagged the back of his tunic and dragged him through an open doorway. The hold was released and he fell backward. The door shut. It was pitch black inside. There was a heavy scraping noise, then silence again.

"Keenser…? Was that you?" McCoy started sitting up, but a small hand grabbed his shoulder. His eyes were adjusting to the dark, and he could make out the outline of Keenser's head.

"Shh."

Before McCoy had time to think of a retort, the door flew open. He cringed, waiting for the phaser fire that didn't come. Sometime between yanking McCoy inside and appearing at his shoulder, Keenser had slid a desk between them and the door. They were both completely obscured from view.

"Keep going. This one's a dead end. He couldn't have gotten far." The door closed again. McCoy counted to five, then exhaled.

"That was close." He turned to Keenser, who was sitting still at his side. "Thanks. I owe you one." McCoy listened to the retreating footsteps of the saboteurs. "What do you think we should do now?"

Keenser stood, motioning for McCoy to follow. He got to the door first, letting some light in so the doctor could navigate around the desk and some displaced chairs. Keenser then took off in the direction they'd come from. About halfway down that hall, he stopped. The door immediately in front of them read 'Electrical Storage' in big bold letters.

"What're we going to do here?" McCoy asked, still uncertain as to why they were stopping instead of running. He knew it would take the goons a minute to search all the rooms in that hallway, but shouldn't they get while the getting's good?

Keenser motioned, again, for McCoy to follow. The door wasn't locked- lucky thing- and they found themselves sitting on a whole host of equipment, most of which McCoy couldn't even begin to identify. Of course, Keenser was in hog heaven, looting amongst the pieces like it was his own personal stash. McCoy thought he'd be useful and guard the door. There was no telling with these criminal types. They could come back around at a moment's notice. He didn't want to be caught unprepared.

There was a clang, and suddenly Keenser was at his side again. This time, he was holding a contraption cobbled out of what looked like a phaser, half a tricorder, and…

"Is that a Secondary Valence Coil?"

Keenser nodded.

"Is it gonna blow us up?"

Keenser shook his head.

McCoy, still unsure about the whole thing, asked his last question:

"What're we gonna do with it?"

"Get 'em."

Apparently, that was that. Keenser nodded toward the door. McCoy opened it, made an 'after you' gesture, and followed the engineer out into the hallway. Keenser had impeccable timing. The thugs were just coming around the far corner. McCoy took an involuntary step back. Keenser simply put on his goggles.

One of the goons pointed down the hallway, glaring. "Hey! It's the Starfleet guy! Get him!"

What happened next was unexpected, but not too surprising. Keenser flicked a switch on his device. There was a blinding flash of light emanating from the center of the Valence Coil. The thugs, taken by surprise, took several steps back. McCoy had to shield his own eyes to get a glimpse of what was going on. Keenser was moving again, cranking a handle on the phaser-side of his new weapon. A blast of yellow light filled the hallway, the bi-product of a thick beam of energy pointed straight at the saboteurs. Both men went down in a heap.

"Keenser!" McCoy shouted, still blinking the spots away. "You made a flat-beam stun cannon out of the parts in there?"

The Roylan nodded, turning back toward where McCoy had come running from. The doctor followed Keenser to the blood trail. Soon, they were back at the last office. McCoy opened the door slowly. Inside, he found the situation much the same, except there were two new hostages in the mix. Scotty was sweating bullets, trying his hardest to keep a brave face. He was hovering at Hendorff's side, fussing over the nasty lump on his CSO's head. The secretary was there, too. He had his back to the dynamic duo, but the sound of the door got him spinning.

This guy was fast, but Keenser was quicker. No sooner than the secretary'd pulled the trigger on his phaser, the little engineer unveiled another trick. McCoy was embarrassed for flinching, but he hadn't expected a wall of energy to appear in front of them, seemingly out of thin air. Keenser then responded to the threat the same way as he had the last: heavy stun.

"Keenser, laddie!" Scotty's face broke into a grin. "You're all right! Ah've been so worried! Doctor McCoy," His attention shifted. "Hendorff's got quite the goose-egg, but Ah think this man over here needs your assistance more urgently!"

McCoy went back into action. He untied the hostages and got straight to work on his patient. All the while he was working, Scotty prattled on about the incident, the rescue, and the Frankenstein weapon to Keenser. In McCoy's personal opinion, the whole ordeal had shaken Scotty quite a bit. _We're good now. We're all good, thanks to Keenser. I'd say he's got us outta our fair share of scrapes before. I guess this isn't his first round-up, either_. Once Hendorff came back around and they called the ship, everything went off without a hitch. The Security team arrested the saboteurs and beamed them straight into the brig. Jim had clapped Keenser on the back for a job well done.

While they were waiting to beam back up, McCoy managed to get a private word with Keenser. "Listen, I uh… I'm pretty useless with things like this- phaser fights an all that." He began, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Keenser stared back. "Anyway, I'd like to thank you for saving my bacon back there. It was the most impressive thing I've ever seen! Cobbling together that… that thing out of spare parts in a glorified storage closet." He was grinning a little, and unless his eyes deceived him, so was Keenser. "I guess all I wanted to say was, Thank You."

The Roylan seemed to smile for a moment more. He inclined his head toward McCoy, movements intentional and all altogether Keenser-eqsue.

"You're welcome."


End file.
